Him and Her
by eahink95
Summary: A blogger by the name of Eliza Rein is coming to New York City where her biggest stalker is waiting for her. Will he get the courage to talk to her? Or will he continue creepily stalking her on the internet, with her looking the other way?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Him

"Dude, I'm telling you, she's the one!"

"In your dreams man." I push my way around the office.

"Come on, Jack. She's gotta be! How many girls do you know who would give a description like that about a guy like you, without having known you yet?" He got right up in my face. "Huh? How many?"

"None."

"That's right." He backed off. "I'm telling you, you have to go after her. She's the one."

"Look, Thomas, just because she can give an accurate description of me without having a clue who I am doesn't mean that I will like her, or that she will fit the description of what _I_ happen to be looking for. Has that occurred to you?" I get up and walk out.

"Yes, that thought had occurred to me!" he called after me as I went to get coffee.

Miss Eliza Rein was her name. She was a blogger, well known throughout New York for her snarky comments, gloomy and sarcastic sense of humor, and her ability to create the creepiest pictures with just a few questions. My dear friend Thomas is under the impression that she is the one for me. That she and I were made for each other, even though she doesn't even live in the same state as me. He said it was like a "Sleepless in Seattle" type thing. I think that's just nuts. Yes, I like her work, and I like the pictures she picks for her work to be displayed. But her? Who knows? She seems like a nice girl from the blogs she posts as her thought process, but I have no idea. For all I know she could be just like her blog: cute and frilly at first glance, but she might just be poison and spiders once you get reading.

Her first post ever was full of questions, haunting mystery and only about 2 pages long. Strange how something so small can leave such a mark. It left me scared to look at a train station and blink for almost a month. How she does it I don't know, but I am willing to bet her talent is a gift from God.

Yes, I believe in God. I'm just a simple paper-pusher in New York, hoping to make it big and someday rule the world just like everyone else. That girl is actually doing it. She's made a difference all over the country. I can see it. I have seen it in Thomas, in some of my friends around town. Even some of the coffee shops are talking about her. She's a great sensation. All because she was able to take what we know and see and understand, and present it in a way that we never could. She made what we understood but couldn't say, and say it in such a way that no one can avoid looking at it.

I've been Facebook stalking her. I want to know who this kid really is. I've looked through all her profile pictures, even tried to friend her. But she didn't respond. I'm sure she just friend's people she knows. I do too. It's such a mystery though, just how great she really is, or how great her profile makes her look. I wonder who she is in real life.

"Hello!" a hand is waving in my face. "Anyone home?" I hear a laugh as a face comes into focus. "You've been standing there for almost 5 minutes holding that coffee pot. You going to pour some, or are you just admiring the pretty crack in the wall?" Melissa grabs the pot from me, pours herself a cup and puts it back in my hand. She's used to my dozing off in here. Oh well.

I pour myself a cup, add 4 sugar cubes, a lot of creamer, and M&amp;Ms, and then march back to my cubicle with Thomas grinning madly.

"Hey man, look at what she just posted!"

I can't hide my excitement as I sit right next to him, greedily reading what words the woman has said today.

"Some people have been pestering me to say something about myself in my blog. I'm here to say, 'What? My contact tab and basic description of myself aren't good enough for you?' But I suppose I must pamper the people who pay me to write this, since they do give me free range and all. So, here goes, my devoted readers. Very little ado about me.

"Some say I can't shut up, others say I need to speak more. I think we all talk far too much, and I just say most of what other people keep in their heads, out loud.

"Some say I am a dreamer, forever lost in another brilliant idea and completely incompetent as far as doing anything practical goes. To that I say, 'I'm making money, isn't that practical enough for you?' I make enough to live on, not so much that I turn greedy and I have to thank God for that.

"Which leads me to another statement about me. I'm a Christian. Yes, yes, I realize I just lost about half of my readers by just that statement, but oh well, it's true. I know a lot of bad labels come with the title, and I'm willing to live with that. I fight the labels, but frankly, some of them are very true. Yes, I like a rock band with good Christian lyrics, but for heaven's sake, that's not what Christianity is. Christians were "Christ Followers" and nothing more. They were His disciples and were not to be confused with anyone else. I believe it was the church in Ephesus that first coined the term, so we have them to blame. I am getting into a very messy can of worms I'm not going to open up right now, because I don't want to.

"I love rock and roll. Give me that old time rock and roll and I'm in a good mood. Power ballads are my favorites. Steve Taylor is my favorite artist and my favorite band changes from day to day.

"I can't stand drinking coffee. I can't even make it to where I like it. The same goes with Macaroni and Cheese. I'm not a very good cook, but that's fine because I live above a restaurant that I own, so all the food's on the house and I'm not taking care of burn marks on the ceiling for a week.

"Last, I'm a bookworm. I love books and the things that come from them end up here in the blog. There. Be happy."

"That's it. That's all?! That's hardly a description." I sat back, disgusted.

"You're the one stalking her all the time. You tell me, is all of that accurate?" Thomas had a loopy grin on his face.

"I didn't know any of this, besides that she was a Christian."

"There you go." He turned his hand, palm up towards me. "She can still surprise you."

"I have never met her!" I protested.

"Yeah, but you've been stalking her for what, 5 years now?"

"It's been 3, but yeah, I've been watching her for a long time."

"So this is good!" he laughed. "It's new information." He picked up today's paper, and flipped to a certain page. "There you go." He laughed again as he handed me the paper. "Your girl is coming to New York!"

I snatched it and tore through the words on the page. "You're joking." The title read, "Nationwide renowned blogger attends debate" and my heart nearly stopped.

"Hey man, you hear that?" Thomas had his head cocked as I looked up from the paper. "Coincidence that your song is playing?"

I cocked my head to listen to the radio that plays through the radio. "Every Breath You Take" by The Police was playing. It's always been my song related to Eliza. I watch her. "I'll be watching you" is one of the lines in the song. How true.

"I don't believe in coincidences, you know that."

He gave me a wicked grin. "Then go to that convention and go see her! Introduce yourself!"

I threw my hands up in the air. "Fine! But you are coming with me."

"Deal." And we shook on it.

Wonderful. I'm so excited!


	2. Chapter 2

"You want me to _**WHAT**_?!"

"It's just for a few days Eliza, calm down!"

"You want me, with my busy schedule, to just drop everything, catch a _flight_ to New York and sit at a debate and a convention afterward? A _**flight**_?! You know how I feel about heights!"

"Eliza, darling, it's just an expression. I'll have a taxi pick you up if you like, and drive you all the way from your sweet little home in Manitou and take you to New York."

"That sounds much better. You're buying right?"

"Of course!"

"Wonderful. When will the taxi be here?" I smile to myself.

"Tomorrow at 4 AM!" She laughed at me over the phone. "Or is that too soon?"

"Umm." I stuttered over myself. "F-four? In the, the morning?" I can't breathe. She was serious.

"Um, yeah! Is that good for you? Or are you not up that early?"

"I'm up. I'm so there. Um… yeah. 4 AM is totally fine. I'm good with that. I'll be ready. You do realize it's nearly 10 PM here, right?"

"Yep. I've got the taxi on speed dial, and they'll be there at 4 AM and ready for you!"

"Awesome. I've got the best agent in the world."

"I'm sorry? You're breaking up!" she shouted into the phone.

"I said, 'I've got the best agent in the world!'" I shouted into the phone.

"Still can't here you!" and now she's just messing with me.

"Good night Cassandra. You're awesome. I'll see you in New York?"

"Yep. I'll be at the taxi stand when you get here. Just be ready and bring a lot of pens. And a copy of your book would be good. Or 10. Yeah, bring 10 signed copies of your book for those producers I've got lined up."

"That's fantastic. See you in a few days!"

"Goodnight precious!"

"Goodnight missy!"

That's that. Oh joy. New York. I've always wanted to go to New York. How am I going to break this to my parents? Should I leave a note, or just wake them up that a business thing is happening in New York and I'm leaving at 4 in the morning? Yeah, better wake them up.

I march my way upstairs and knock on the door.

"Who is it?" My Dad's voice rings out from the other side.

"Eliza."

"Come in!" Mom's voice calls.

I open the door and walk in, closing it behind me.

"Cassandra called. She tells me that there is a debate and convention going on in New York that she has had me booked for next Friday. She's sent a taxi, and it will be here at 4 AM tomorrow." They both raised their eyebrows. "I know. She just decided to tell me this now, and I have no idea why, but that's what's going on. I thought I should tell you instead of just disappearing. So, I'm going to go pack. I'll be back right after the convention. I'll catch a taxi back. She's paying, and I'm grateful."

"Alright. Bring your can of mace with you." My mother said.

"Don't go anywhere after dark." Dad added.

"Don't go anywhere at all alone." Mom chimed in.

"Be safe."

"Be sure to pack extra pants, it's supposed to snow next weekend."

"Don't talk to strangers."

"Make us proud."

"I guess we'll be telling the pastor why you're not in the nursery this Sunday right?"

I nodded at Dad. "If you would please."

"Alright." Mother said again. "Goodbye. We love you, and we'll see you when you get back."

"You be careful, alright?" Dad said as I hugged him goodnight and goodbye.

"I will, I promise."

Great. Just great. I march my way down the stairs, hands in my pockets, thinking about everything that they said. Protective parents. I'm 25. I'm ready to get out of here.

I get to my room and start packing. It's already 10:30 PM. I'm so tired, but I have to get ready to go. I grab my favorite blue suitcase, squish pillow, blindfold and pillow, and just crash by the door with the alarm set. There's no point in going to bed, I'll just leave it messy if I don't just sleep on the floor. And I sleep better in the car anyway. It would have been nice if my agent, Cassandra, would have told me that I was going to New York a little sooner. But I have all that I need: clothes for over a week, my can of mace, my knives, my fleece blanket, pillow, squish pillow, and blindfold. I'll do fine.

I say a prayer just before I fall asleep, "What do you want me to do this for, God? What good will it do me? What do you have in store?" and I fall asleep right then and there, with no answer as of yet.


	3. Chapter 3

At long last! The day of the debate!

"So, what is it they are debating?" I ask as a grab my M&amp;Ms from my pocket and rip them open.

"No one knows." Thomas steals a few of them from me. "I've never been to one of these debates before, but I hear that they're fantastic if you're a blogger. They've invited some of the most controversial writers from across the country to come and debate here in New York on a certain topic. Who knows what they may be?"

I haven't seen Miss Eliza yet, but I'm sure she's here.

"Hey, where's your girl?" Thomas elbows me. "I thought she was supposed to be here, and the paper said she was."

"Yeah, I know, but I don't see her."

There's a commotion from behind us as lots of people grab their cellphones and start taking pictures of someone who is hidden from my view.

"Maybe that's her."

"EXCUSE ME!" A loud powerful female voice rings out from in between all the people. "For glory's sake! You'd think I was a celebrity! Now, if you don't mind, I'm trying to make it to the stage in one piece!" and Eliza Rein pushed her way through all of them.

"Wow." Thomas said. "That's Miss Rein?"

I know what he means. She's barely 5' 2" and for that voice to belong to her… it just _can't_ be. I mean, I'm not exactly tall, but she's at least 6 inches smaller than me! This girl can't possibly be the great Eliza Rein. She's supposed to be a very big and powerful blogger with a writing ability that could beat the president into changing his policy. It's not right. This girl couldn't knock over a feather in a windstorm!

"Maybe it's just her escort." Thomas says doubtfully. "There's a girl walking behind her, that could be her!" he pointed at the 5' 7" little girl that walked with a slight twitch in her mouth and her head bowed.

"No way man. That's not her. The strong and confident Eliza Rein wouldn't walk in like she'd been hit by a two-by-four on her way in." I waved him off and put a few more M&amp;Ms in my mouth.

"Well, Jack, it looks like both of those girls are getting up on the stage, so either one of them could be." He laughed. "You're the one that's been stalking her all the time, don't you know what she looks like?"

"No. She never posts full pictures of herself. Just little bits and pieces, like here eye, or her mouth."

"Wow. She's gotta be really vain then!"

The host of this little debate, and the mediator as well, stood up in the front. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you would just settle in, we will begin and hopefully get you out before lunch time." There was a soft laugh throughout the crowd. "First up we have Mr. Collins, and Mr. Dahl. Please step forward gentlemen."

Two older gentlemen stood up, and stepped up to their podiums.

"Since this is a debate for the sake of fun, and you are both writers, let's pick a simple topic. Which is a better writing utensil: a pen or a pencil?" the mediator got down and sat on the chair directly in front of the stage, looking up at the gentlemen.

They went back and forth, with Mr. Collins taking the side of the pencil, saying that mistakes could be corrected, and weren't permanent. Mr. Dahl stood on the side of the pen, stating that was exactly why a pen should be used and not a pencil. The point is to make writing timeless.

When their time was up, two women went up, and their topic was on which dogs were better than other dogs, and after them were several other pairs of people. Still no Eliza Rein.

Finally the last two people are up. It was the two women we were having trouble figuring out who they were.

"Last, but not least," the mediator stepped up again, "Mrs. Cindy Cauliflower and Miss Eliza Rein!"

Applause broke out and Mrs. Cauliflower stood and bowed, all 5' 2" of her. The 5' 7" girl stood, her mouth twitched on the right and she marched her way up to the podium.

"Yes, yes, thank you so much, quiet down now." The mediator waved his hands to quiet us down. "Miss Rein, since this holiday has just passed, I would like for you to take a more abstract subject. What is the purpose of Christmas?"

"You have asked the wrong question sir."

The whole room gasped, even Thomas did. No one corrects a mediator. "I beg your pardon?" he asked sharply.

"You have asked the wrong question." The room fell totally silent, if it wasn't before. "You are making the assumption that Christmas has a purpose, and what that might be. This is incorrect. Christmas has no purpose, but that which we attach to it."

Mrs. Cauliflower burst out laughing. "Of course Christmas has a purpose. For those that are religious, it is the celebration of Jesus' birth, and for those who it is not, it is the tradition of getting and giving gifts. Surely you know that."

"I am aware of how people celebrate the day, Mrs. Cauliflower. However, that his how they choose to spend the day. But for those who may have never heard of the day, it is simply December 25th. For those like me, it is a day celebrated with family and friends, how we show how much we like each other by giving gifts and scoring secrecy points. But Christmas in itself has no purpose, for it is a day, just like any other day. The sun does not know that it's Christmas, which is in actuality a pagan holiday we have decided to put a religious spin on."

"You make a lot of assumptions, Miss Rein, in your description."

"What is the tree for? What are the mistletoe for?" Miss Rein cut in, cocking her head and looking innocently at Mrs. Cauliflower. "What is the purpose of keeping poisonous plants around, such as mistletoe and poinsettias during this particular holiday? We as a country have taken this holiday and given it meaning to everyone in the country. Especially people here in New York."

"Excuse me?" Mrs. Cauliflower raised her eyebrows. "What about people in New York makes them set apart?"

"What sets them apart is that they are so big and loud, and unceasing in their consciousness. It is called 'The City that Never Sleeps' for a reason. That reason is that you are restless and are obsessed with the business world it seems." She folded her hands across the podium and raised the left side of her mouth in a snarl. "The business world seems to be the only thing that matters to you people. As if there is no other purpose in the world. The amount of money that changes hands in this city is more than any other in the entire country and no one makes any contribution to their friends and neighbors. It is as if no one cares a wit about anyone but themselves." She paused enough for breath and Mrs. Cauliflower cut in.

"I'm a native New Yorker, do you honestly think that I act like this?"

"Of course! I happen to read your blog on a regular basis and have paid a great deal of attention to your personal goals and have found them to be sincerely lacking in depth and ideals. Your goals are personal alone, and have nothing to do with any other creature in the world. I also happen to know that you attended 3 different hairstylists today, but that you styled your own hair this morning with your husband, hence the excess of hairpins and the extreme lack of hairspray. However, you attended _three_ of the hairstylists, and your hair has not changed. Excuse me, but it seems that you are cheating on your husband." She flew through the words without pausing for breath and without moving her body or her face, all but her mouth. "I am also well aware that your husband knows about it, but this news has somehow not made the local news, although you are not often monitored. There was also an ethics clause in the contract that all of the participants were to sign today, to ensure that no lawsuits would occur, and the truth would be able to be spoken, however, you have denied the part where you have only had one husband!" The room gasped again, even though her tone wasn't more than just conversational. "But we are far from the topic now, and our mediator hasn't told us our time is up, but I am more than certain it is, so I will be on my way."

With that she waltzed off the stage, marched her way through the crowd, who sat still watching her leave in stunned silence, and said just as she pushed the door open, "I'll leave you to your—" her mouth twitched in a cocky smile "—adoring reporters." A wicked glint came into her eyes and her mouth became a wicked and cruel smile, "After all, 'It's like I'm a celebrity!' right?" and she pushed her way out the door as reporters and everyone flew forward, pestering Mrs. Cauliflower with questions.

"Wow." Thomas said. "That went over well." He looked at me with the same shocked look as the one that was probably on my face. "And this is your renowned blogger?"

I looked at him, changing my look from one of shock to one of pride. "Yes. Yes that was my favorite and renowned blogger. And I'm going after her." I ran out of the room.

"Jack! Jack!" Thomas called after me.

"I can't let her leave!" I called over my shoulder. "No one else has the guts to say it!"


	4. Chapter 4

'Brilliant. Just brilliant.' I stormed my way to the taxi stand, dialing Cassandra as I stomped my way through the endless crowds.

"Hey, Cassandra. Have you heard?"

"Oh yeah. You've made the instant news, and reporters are flooding the television with Mrs. Cauliflower's endless stuttering. You've shut her up for good, I think! Well done!"

"I butchered the entire state, and the entire city. They're going to murder me! I'm going home." I say as I storm past another block, trying desperately to get air to breathe in this conflicting city.

"You may be right. No one still seems to be really happy with anything that you said, and your audience and popularity in New York just tanked. But you'll be glad to hear that just about everyone else in the country will be hearing about this, and that should hopefully balance the numbers."

"Wonderful." I say with a heavy sarcastic drawl. "I'm in a city full of enemies, without a leg to stand on, up a creek without a paddle, and that's the best news you can give me. I'm dead. Can you get me cash for the taxi home? I'm going home, and I'm almost to the building now."

"You're about at the taxi drive? Why? Why do you want to go home all of a sudden? No one will pay you much mind here. You haven't even met the producers or publishers I have lined up!"

"Cassandra, I appreciate your assistance, but I'm just going to get myself killed if I stay here for one minute more. I can't stand this place and after tonight, when the _world_ hears what I said, no one is going to want to pay me one ounce of attention. I shot my mouth off, against my better judgment, and I'm toast by my own toaster. I can't stay here. Let me go home." I try to keep the whiny little girl out of my voice.

"I'm sorry darling, I can't let you do that. Not until I have you meet the producers and publishers. There's only 5 of them, and the others seem to have picked up on what you said, and have decided they don't want to support you."

"Great. Fine. When do I meet these people?"

"In 2 hours. I'll text you the exact address, so you can put it in your phone and get there on time. You should probably wear a business suit and comb your hair first."

I sigh, looking for a way out of this. "Fine. I'll go back to the hotel and I'll meet you out front of the building you text me. Alright?"

"That would be great darling."

"Thanks Cassandra."

"You're welcome."

We said goodbye and I started my way back through the crowds and to the hotel, stomping angrily and keeping my hands 2 inches from my body, creating a bigger atmosphere around myself, and driving everyone away.

Finally, I made it to the hotel and marched my way up the stairs, taking them 2 at a time, and ignoring the elevator. Made it to my room without crying, and then collapsed on the bed as soon as I entered the room.

"Why do I have to be so stupid?" I cry aloud. "I hate being so stupid and observant! It makes no sense that I should be the one to do this! It's not fair!" I punch the pillow, trying desperately to get it together for the producers. I can't be an emotion mess for them!

I take a shower, dress for the meeting and march my way out into the street.

"Keep it together girl. You just make it through this meeting and then you can go home." I mutter under my breath.

I am terrible with directions and finally make it to the building, and I look around for Cassandra, my face clear of all expressions.

"Excuse me." A guy taps me on the shoulder. "Are you looking for someone?"

"Yeah. Cassandra Booker. You know her? I'm supposed to meet her here."

"Ah. Ms. Booker was here almost 20 minutes ago. She told me that I was to meet you here, Miss Rein and lead you to the conference room. Please, follow me."

I follow this guy through the building, up the elevator, and through a maze of hallways through until we get to a glass room where Cassandra is waiting for me. I remembered the books, thank goodness.

"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen." I say as I grab the books and start passing them around the room. "Forgive my lateness, I have very little ability to find my way to anywhere." A soft chuckle goes around the room.

"Now, if you would gentlemen, I am ready for your questions."

"Your stunt today. Was that planned?" one of them jumped all over the question. I put a very bemused look on my face.

"Yes, of course it was planned. Since, you know, I was so very prepared for the Christmas subject, and the cruel and egotistical behavior of Mrs. Cauliflower." I wipe my face clean again. "Of course I didn't prepare it. I went flying by the seat of my pants, and I'm very sorry for what I said. My typed words are much more elegant and less dangerous than those that come out of my mouth."

Many of them started muttering around the room.

"Are there any questions about my book, and not about what happened today?"

One hand raised.

"Yes?" I pointed with two fingers at him.

"Will you be posting this as a kind of story on your blog?"

"No. I will not. There is no reason to."

"I think the public deserves to hear about this. They will want to know why you said what you said." One of them said.

"Sir, I will say that the public does not need to hear anything about this. They must decide for themselves what to believe. I refuse to tell them. It's unnecessary."

"Unnecessary? Nay, Miss Rein, I believe it is very necessary. Especially if you are expecting us to publish this book of yours." He held it up to add to his point.

"I am. I am asking you to do this, and many of you will read the book and hate it, I am sure. But it will be published. I am asking for you to help the economy by publishing it and taking a piece for yourselves. But I will not force you to take your bit if that is not what you want. Excuse me for trying to make you money." I tried not to sound so snide.

"Eliza!" Cassandra said in horror.

"Forgive me gentlemen, but it has been quite a long day and I'm sure that I'm in culture shock. You have already picked up on my accent, I am sure. Yes, I'm not from around here, I don't know your customs, and the way I am supposed to behave and or speak, but I will do all in my power to prove via my book that I am a great writer. I'm going to publish it no matter what you say, so you might as well take your cut while you have the chance. No matter what I say." I have really done it this time. So, I head for the door, just as I always do when I've said my piece and they can't stop me. "Good day gentlemen. Make up your minds, why don't you." And I leave that room and don't stop walking until I reach the bus station.

"One ticket to Colorado Springs, Colorado, please." I say to the man behind the desk.

"Is that all for you miss?"

"Yep. Get me home."

"Alright miss. We have a bus leaving for Denver in 40 minutes. You want to wait?"

"Yes. I'll wait."

I take my ticket, and dash back to the hotel, grab my suitcase, which I had already packed, and dash back with 20 minutes to spare.

I sit down on a bench and wait for my bus. A man sits down next to me and smiles at me.

"Hey." He says.

"Hi." I say. I am _so_ not in the mood to talk to anyone.

"I'm Jack. Jack MacPherson. And you are obnoxious." I glare at him.

"Gee, thanks." I say, shaking the hand that was offered. "I'm Eliza Rein."

He smiles even bigger at me. "I know. I read your blog, and was at the debate today. I was very disappointed that you left."

"Sorry. I have that habit. I say something stupid and run away. It's my favorite way of coping."

"I'm sorry. I wish you would have stayed to see the chaos you created." He shrugged. "I didn't stick around though, and I've spent all day trying to track you down. Then it's all over the news what happened at the debate, and that you had a fall out with your publishers shortly after. I figured that someone with that much bad luck would be trying to go home."

"You're annoying." I say with a bite in my voice. "I want to go home and will in the next 20 minutes. I'm leaving and I will not return." I cross my arms. "I have no reason to."

"You don't like New York?"

I raise an eyebrow at him like he's stupid. "Were you not at the debate today?"

"Yes, I was."

"Then you should know that I thoroughly despise the behaviors of the people of New York. The city itself is fine." I say with the same powerful clip I always have in my voice.

"I see." He nods and shuts up. Good glory, who is this guy? "I'm sorry. I'm a big fan of yours. I heard you were going to write a book and haven't gotten it published."

"Yeah, I'm going to get it published. It would seem that a few of my… publishers don't want their cut, but whatever. I'll self-publish if I have to."

"Can I see it?" he asked as if he were a small child asking to see a magic trick.

"Yeah, sure." I reach into my bag and hand him one of my signed copies. "I have a strong feeling that very few people will like it, but whatever." I shrug it off and keep waiting for my bus. 10 minutes.

He's reading it like he'd never seen a book before, and was fascinated by the concept. He was just sitting there reading my book in front of me, and greedily consuming every word. Who the heck is this guy?

"I'm sorry. You say you read my blog." I venture with 8 minutes until my bus arrives. "How well do you follow it?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm your biggest fan in all New York. I have read everything you post, every week, exactly when you post it. I can't possibly get enough of it. The extreme diversity of your work is just fascinating. I've never met someone who could say what no one else will with such … elegance."

"Elegance?" I try not to laugh. "What on earth is elegant about my work? I'm cruel and biting at the very least."

"Which is what is so elegant. You say so smoothly the most cruel and biting remarks about the people that no one else will."

"You are out of your mind." I say and turn away, trying desperately not to count the seconds until my bus arrives.

"You are a remarkable woman." He says quietly. "I've followed you religiously for years and I just…"

"You just are so happy to meet me at long last, and find that I'm just as obnoxious in person as I am on the blog. Yeah, be happy." I say with a sarcastic twang.

"I am happy. But that's not the reason why." He paused.

"I gave you my book that not even the publishers have read yet. Yeah, yeah. Whatever." I cross my arms then check my watch again. 6 minutes.

"No." he smiled. "It's because you're so impressive. And because you were able to give a perfect description of me, without ever meeting me, in your blog."

"You have got to be kidding me." I look at the sky and send God a prayer.

'God, what on earth are You doing?! I can't get in a relationship right now! Especially not with this nasally sounding New Yorker. Especially not since I just butchered my chances of making the big time today! HELP!'

"I am quite intrigued. Is that man you described your husband, or just what you would like your husband to be?" he asks me with his head cocked.

I sigh. "Look. You seem to be a nice guy, but I'm going home." I check my watch again. "I'm going home in about 4 minutes and I don't ever want to return. I don't have time for a relationship and I have no idea who you are, other than my stalker. I'm pleased that I have at least one fan still in New York after I messed up, but I don't care to get entangled in a relationship. I'm trying to rule the world right now and it's not going so well. So, you can ask all the questions that you like, but I'm leaving. I wish you good day, and farewell." And I get up and walk to the counter.

"Excuse me." The man behind it looks at me. "When is the bus to Colorado going to arrive?"

"What's the number?" he asks.

"2685." I say, tension rising in my voice.

"Oh. Miss, there's been a terrible storm out there. I've been told that none of our busses headed out will be leaving for the next week. The route is just too treacherous."

"What are you saying?" I'm trying to keep it together, keeping my voice as level as I can.

"Hand me your ticket and I'll give you your money back. You're not leaving on bus 2685 today. No one is leaving the state today, not even if you're going to Maine or Florida. The state of New York is locked up."


	5. Chapter 5

Great. Just great. I totally blew it with my idol. What's Thomas going to say? I stand with my hand in my pocket, and the book in my other hand. She totally blew me off and I didn't even get to say goodbye.

I overhear a few people headed out with me. "That's right! No one in, no one out. New York is on its own! We're on lockdown! We can travel around the state, but the snow is so bad, that there is no route out. The cold from Canada is coming down…" and I run off, back inside, not hearing any more.

"Miss Eliza!" I call out as I see her sit on her suitcase, practically in tears. "Would you mind having a drink with me?"

She starts laughing. "A drink?" she laughs. "A drink?! You're not much of a stalker if you don't know that I don't drink."

"It's an expression quite common out here. You want coffee? Hot chocolate? Alcohol? Tea?" I try not to sound desperate. "You know, since no one is leaving the state."

She throws up her hands. "What the heck?! This is His way of punishing me; I might as well enjoy it. Lead the way Mr. MacPherson."

I offer her my arm and we walk out like a couple, her leading her suitcase.

I'm in heaven.

She told me she had to run by the hotel so we do that first. She dashes up the stairs, ignoring the fact that there is an elevator, and made it back downstairs with a different outfit and hairstyle in no less than 10 minutes.

"Okay!" she claps her hands. "So, what does one drink when one is a native to New York?"

"One typically will drink coffee, but this fella doesn't." she looked at me quizzically. "I typically drink water." The side of her mouth twitched in an almost smile.

"Awesome." Was all she had to say on the matter, at least until I ventured a question.

"What do you like to drink?"

"Chocolate." She says with an eyebrow raised, as if she expected me to know that already. "You're a pretty poor stalker if you don't know what I drink."

"I guess not." She fell in suspicious silence until I lead her to my favorite spot with a mess of drink ideas. It's a little café just down the street from Wall Street, so there's typically a lot of traffic through here.

"Hey Jack!" Thomas was sitting at our usual booth and noticed the lady Eliza Rein on my arm. "Who do we have here?" he waved us over. She slipped into the corner, with no one on her left and me boxing her in on the right.

"You know who she is, Thomas. This is Lady Eliza Rein." I gesture with my left hand to her. She still hasn't let go of my arm and her hand is only getting tighter.

"A pleasure to meet you, lovely lady." He held out his hand for her to shake.

She releases my arm, grabs his hand, and he suddenly kisses it.

Her eyes narrow and she freezes. The whole room freezes for us, as if everyone is waiting for her reaction.

"You're just as beautiful as they say." He says smoothly.

She tilts her head up and wipes all emotion from her face, taking her hand back and putting it in her lap.

"You are just the same as a hundred others who have lowered themselves to your level, and dared to kiss my hand to honor me." The right side of her mouth twitch in a bemused smile. "And you have dreamed to honor me, by dishonoring yourself and losing points with me." She gives a cruel laugh and turns to me.

"This is the kind of creature you call your friend?" she raises her eyebrows swiftly once before removing all emotion again.

"Umm… umm… well… I guess…?" is all I can say right now.

"HA!" she is trapped in the corner, so she can't run, but I pray she doesn't speak again. I know what her words can do.

"If you like, we can leave." I venture, sending a glare at Thomas, who looks like he's just been slapped.

"I would _love_ to leave." She snarls. "But it would seem that New York is snow trapped! A bloody island in a world of snow and ice that has me trapped here with you!" she could now be heard by the next few tables.

"Jack." A voice comes from over my shoulder. It's Timothy, our favorite waiter. "Can you ask your lady friend to keep her voice down?" he looks down to his shoes.

She looks at him. "Do you know me?" she says with a blank expression.

Without looking up he says, "Yes. I know you very well Miss Rein."

She holds out her hand, sitting up on her knees as swift as a rabbit. "Then say hello properly and I'll leave."

He looks at her hand, then up at her face. She gives him a full-on, full of teeth smile. He gives her hand a swift shake and then dashes back behind the counter. "Don't leave!" he calls over his shoulder.

She sits down with a mildly amused expression on her face.

"So you're not insulted by him?" Thomas asks, insulted himself.

"Not at all. He has a firm handshake, knew who I was, yet didn't make a big deal about it. He held himself with grace and dignity." She tosses her head, causing her perfectly straight hair to come falling out of the pins in some places. Such beauty. "You simply ducked below me, hoping I'd be impressed."

Timothy came straight back, holding three drinks. "Water for Jack, Protein Uh-Oh for Thomas, and for the lady…" he handed her a very dark liquid. "M&amp;M hot chocolate."

Well, this is a surprise. I guess she wasn't kidding.

"Thank you sir." She bowed her head in his direction, and reached for the mug, slipping something into his hand as she does it. "I appreciate it."

"Of course." He bows to us, and dashes back to the kitchen.

Thomas looks at her face intently, seriously wounded about how she was treating the waiter. "You're actually going to drink that?"

Her lip curls into a wicked snarl and her eyes light with fire. "Do you have to crush my temporary happiness?" she growled under her breath.

Good gracious, I thought, how many voices does this girl have?

She takes a big gulp of that rich stuff and closes her eyes, smiling at the sheer wonderful taste of the drink, though I'm sure she's still not pleased about the company she's keeping.


	6. Chapter 6

Mint M&amp;Ms. Gosh, how did that guy know?

How can I not be happy at the sheer awesomeness of this liquid? I taste dashes of milk, water, even a bit of heavy whipping cream. But what is the major taste? Chocolate. As if someone melted down every M&amp;M in the world, and put it in this drink. I'm in heaven.

"I take it that this business doesn't have any branches in Colorado?" I ask Jake.

"Not that I know of. Marcus is the guy that runs this place, and Timothy is our favorite waiter. He doesn't get paid anything what he should for what he puts up with."

I look in the direction of the waiter. "Timothy…" I say thoughtfully.

And the cruel monstrosity in front of me is still looking at me as if I were drinking my own vomit. I think that Protein whatever he's drinking looks more like vomit than this sheer heaven I'm drinking.

"What?" I snap at him.

"How can you stand that? Isn't it too rich?"

"Rich?" I look at him like he's nuts. "You're too rich! You have spent your life thinking you are above everyone. Excuse me, but I am far above you. Always have been, for you began by kissing my hand, when you deserve to kiss my foot." I flash my eyes at him. I've been told that when I flash my eyes, I can stop time or kill people. "So, do me a favor and shut up. I didn't come to spend time with you, for you were not at the bus station with me. Jack was." I look at Jack fiercely. "You've trapped me now and I'm losing my patience."

He nods at me and rises, offering me his hand. I've finished the mug of heaven and I'm ready to get out of the death pit with the devil across the table. I get up, taking his hand and walk up to the counter. A man in the kitchen notices me and comes out.

"Are you Marcus?" I ask politely.

"I am." He smiles at me. He's a large black man with too many teeth, but a friendly, well-bred disposition. "You are Miss Eliza Rein. Something of a celebrity around here."

"Thank you. I'm aware." I grab a couple of the books that I have signed and hand them to him. "Here. I don't have any cash on me at the moment, but will these do?"

He smiles even more brightly at me. "Of course! Your presence at the conference and giving that woman a run for her money is enough for me, but this is something special."

"Wonderful." I sweep into a bow and march my way through the door, not caring if Jack follows me or not. I'm going to find Cassandra.

He followed me. Yay.

I dial my phone.

"Cassandra. Yeah. I can't leave, but you knew that."

"Darling, calm down. You can head back to the hotel. No problem. I'll keep up the cash flow, I mean, it's not like you'll never go home. Don't worry so much. You'll be fine."

"You are out of your bloody mind. I just had a drink with that stalker you were telling me about last month."

"You drink? Wait, the stalker guy?"

"YES!" I say exasperated and sad. "I met him at the bus station and I want out of here, but I can't. Stay with me, won't you?"

I hear a whisper behind me from Jack. "Yes."

"I can't darling. You know I can't. I have plans that I've had for months, and three other clients I have to take care of. The city doesn't sleep and neither do I. I know I'm your agent, but I'm the agent to other people as well. You'll be fine. Ta-ta, I love you."

I'm about to cry.

"I love you too…" I end the call. Stone face comes back on and I turn on him.

"Well." I put my hands on my hips. "I guess you're stuck with me." I turn around and march myself back to the hotel. "Be happy."

I'm sure he's just about to bust with sheer glee at being stuck with his idol. Hooray for me.


	7. Chapter 7

When she turned around and said, "Well. I guess you're stuck with me. Be happy." I thought she was about to hit me. It's obvious that this beautiful woman really prefers to be left alone. Maybe it's just that she's in New York, or maybe this is normal for people in Colorado, but I bet it's not healthy. She's so alone. No one even came to New York with her.

Anyway, we are headed back to the hotel, with her leading and stomping around like a spoiled child.

'Who is this woman?' I pray to God. 'What on earth is she doing here? Why have You stopped her from going home, when that's all she wants to do?'

I don't get an answer immediately, but find us at the hotel. She marches and leads me to the lounge and she finds a small corner with two chairs and a table between them.

"Sit. Stay. I'll be right back with my knitting. I'm sure you're going to want to talk, huh?"

I nod, but she has already turned her back and made a dash for the stairs.

She comes back in about 15 minutes, with a giant tote bag on her shoulder, a different hairstyle and her slippers.

She plopped down in the chair opposite me, pulled out some blue needles and black yarn.

"Alright. Knock yourself out. Ask me some questions."

I can't help but smile. This girl is so… blunt.

"The first story you ever posted."

She nodded. "Spinning Wheel."

"That's the one. What possessed you to write that? What made you think of taking a villain such as Maleficent and turn her into a good guy? What about her character made you think she was just misunderstood?"

"Of all the …" she looked very surprised, but regained composure pretty quickly. "Maleficent was the kind of character that people would pay attention to, just because she was a sorcerer, or rather a sorceress. She's not someone you just assume is dead, just so you don't have to ask her to a party. And what could she gain from cursing a baby? What good would that do? But more than that, why a spinning wheel of all things? Why not an ax or a crossbow?"

Good questions. Wow, her mind must be more active than a frightened rabbit.

"So, I was just exploring how I would feel if I was all that and someone didn't invite me to a party, and their excuse was that I was dead. Seriously? A sorceress gets presumed dead because she doesn't show up at a beck and call, but ignore her… and your kid is toast. That's all I wanted to say. Why? What did you think of it?"

"Well, I thought that your approach to the spinning wheel was a little… off the map. I mean, it's not a weapon, as you said, but she also had an edge for humiliation. That would mean, since they got rid of all but one spinning wheel, that they wouldn't have any yarn or thread, and they would have to import all of the cloth and fabric they wore, making the economy of her country better. That was just…" I'm so amazed at it, I make an explosion with my hands. "Blew my mind." I smile. "No one else would have thought of that, but it makes so much sense!"

She nods at me. "That's what I'm good at. Everyone's thinking it, but I'm the only one with the guts to say it."

"It's awesome." 'Holy cow, am I actually sitting here with this amazing woman?' "I think there should be more people like you."

Her face turns to stone. "I don't."

Uh oh. What did I just say? "What do you mean, you don't?"

"I don't think there should be more people like me. I'm unique. If there were more like me, I wouldn't be unique. It's obnoxious. I'm glad there's only one of me. Do I wish that there were more people with morals like mine? Yes. Do I wish that some people thought more like me in the logical sense? Yes. But do I think there should me more like me? No."

Her fingers are flying over the needles and she is watching my face intently. "Does that make sense?"

"Yeah. That makes total sense. I'm sorry. I'll try to watch what I say and say exactly what I mean."

"That would be most appreciated." She looked down at what she was doing and said, "Next question."

I went through with lots of questions about her work and then got into a few questions about her drinking habits. Turns out that she only drinks coffee when she's highly stressed and can't even taste chocolate. She's a chocoholic, in that she is highly addicted to the stuff. That M&amp;M hot chocolate she had at the café was her daily fix. M&amp;Ms are her favorite, but she takes hers in the mint or peanut kind, where I prefer the dark or milk chocolate kind. We talked for hours and hours on all kinds of subjects, even to the point of getting to religion.

"So, when you said earlier today that 'this is His way of punishing me, I might as well enjoy it' you were talking about God, right?"

"Yeah. He has a nasty habit of punishing me, and not letting me have my way. He knows what it does to me when I get my way." She smiled. "It makes me depend on Him less, and I don't usually like what I asked for. So He doesn't let me have my way. For whatever reason…" she got a wistful look and glanced around the room. "He wants me to stay here in New York, even after I messed everything up. Probably a lesson in, 'you can't run from your problems' or something like that."

"Does He teach you lessons like that a lot?"

"Yeah. All the time it seems like. I can't do anything good enough, or bad enough, to get Him to stop teaching me lessons. All the time, patience, self-control, peace, and lots of others. I've not gotten them all down yet, but He keeps teaching me!" she shakes her head. "It's annoying sometimes, but I know what He wants sooner or later."

I try to keep myself very calm for her sake, trying not to venture too close to a sensitive subject that might make her run. But I'm about to bounce of my seat I'm so excited. She's exactly what I've been spending my whole life looking for.

"And as far as marriage is concerned… you don't have a ring?" I ask trying not to sound presumptuous.

She glared at me, and got up. "That topic is between me, my dad, and God. The end. It's late and I'm going to bed." She swung the tote over her left shoulder and stood quite straight as she held out her hand. "Goodbye. Thank you for today."

"No, no. Thank you! I had a wonderful time. I had no idea… and the debate was fantastic." She groaned.

"The debate was a disaster. Don't think it's anything but one of my ultimate failures in self-control." She sighed, and I shook her hand with both hands.

"It's going to be okay. Can I call on you tomorrow night and we can talk some more?"

She turned her face to stone again. "I don't think so. You seem to only want one thing, and that thing is for my father to decide. I don't even know you." And she turned to leave, but not before I grabbed her hand.

"Please. Tomorrow, there's a kind of ball in a place downtown. Would you join me? It's really old fashioned, if you wanted to dress up… some of us are."

She looked at me, with no change in expression. "Let go of me." She growled. "Yes. I think that would be fine. I don't have anything else to do." I let go and she relaxed. "When are you going to pick me up?"

"Does 6 sound good?"

"Excellent. I go to bed about 10 o'clock every night." She turned around. "See ya!" She waved without looking back.

Wow… what a woman!

I get home and march my way straight into bed. For the first night in weeks, I don't have dreams.


	8. Chapter 8

Great. I had been doing so well! I could keep all of them so far away from me, proving myself pompous and arrogant, but still I got one! Sheesh. I shouldn't have taken him up on his offer to keep me company, or that drink for that matter. I should have just gone to the hotel and ignored what my gut was telling me. It didn't matter. For all I knew, Jake could have kidnapped me and held me for ransom! There wouldn't be much money in it for him, but he could have. It's just not fair. Can't just have a proper moment to myself without getting massively entangled with romance. I can't walk out my door without having a guy asking for my hand!

I am getting dressed for bed and I intend not to get up tomorrow, except that I told him I would go to this old fashioned ball with him… at least, I hope it's old fashioned. I'm almost done with the fancy cape I've been working on… maybe I can find something to match! That would be awesome! If I can…

If I can find something to wear.

I look in the mirror and start talking to myself.

"What is wrong with you? Aren't you going to tell him no and bail while you still have the chance?"

I cock my head and think the daylight out of the situation.

"I could tell him to get lost. It'd be better than getting my heart broken again. I could be totally left alone again. I've only known him a day…"

"But he did say that I gave a perfect description of him…"

"But what does that mean anyway? He might have just said that because he's such a big fan and wanted to impress me."

"He's looking for a wife, that's obvious."

"I never should have left home. I should have just said, 'No, Cassandra. That's too early in the morning, and I have no business being in New York at all. What makes you think I can debate, or that these pompous jerks want anything to do with my book? I'm awesome and you know it.' But what good would that do?"

"I wouldn't be learning my lesson as I am now, not to run from my problems… and I have to solve this one on my own. If I get kidnapped, that's my problem and Daddy can't come bail me out. I have to take care of this Jake guy by myself. The end."

And that's that. I'm going to bed, and I'm not going to get up ever again if I can help it.

I dream of him, and don't remember in the morning why.

I am woken by the smell of smoke and the sound of fire. I knew it was getting too warm in here! I open my eyes to see that the bathroom wall is engulfed in fire!

I get up, grab my knitting, briefcase, squish pillow, room key, and suitcase (which I always keep packed when I'm away from home) and dash out of the door and fly down the stairs. There are people screaming, women yelling and men giving orders all over the place.

Just as I reach the outside, I hear a blast from behind me and see that there are now flames pouring out of a few windows. Women around me are screaming, sirens are wailing, and the firemen are already here and giving directions to those on the street. I pay close attention to everything around me, desperate for material for my blog and thinking this might make a good story.

I run up to the man who had been behind the desk and was now wringing his hands and babbling incoherently.

"Hey!" I say right in his face. "Hey! Chill. It's okay. You're alive, doesn't that count?"

"Count? How can it count?" He looked vacantly at me and at the building. "My life, my world, my business and my boss are going to kill me. I won't be alive for much longer. Stupid women. Bossy people. 'Mind the desk.' Of course I minded it. Set the place ablaze. Stupid woman. Dumb dumpy tramp and her boyfriend. Pot smokers. I knew they were, I knew it!"

"Interesting. Could you pick her out if you saw her?"

"Who?" he says, confused.

"The pot smoker and her boyfriend. The ones who set the place ablaze?"

"Oh, yeah. I'd know her like the back of my hand. Every Saturday she comes here with a new man. Special discount and everything. Posh girl. About 20." I look around for a woman about that age. "Brown eyes, platinum blonde hair, and she was wearing that ugly green dress again."

Bulls-eye. Gotcha.

"Thank you so much. Tell that to the firemen." I say as I leave him.

"HEY!" I call out to the girl matching his description.

"Yeah?" she says drunkenly. "What'd you want? I'm sold out, sorry."

"Sold out?" I ask, eyes narrowed.

"Yeah. No more meth, honey. Smoked the last of it with that fella. He paid me good for it too." She smiled drunkenly at me. "You should have been with us. It was such fun."

"Fun." I snarl. "Did you set this place on fire? Were you in Room 332?"

"Yeah. How'd you know that? Some kind of psychic or something?"

"You set the place on fire, right next to my room. I think you'd better sit down." I push her to the ground, my hand on her shoulder as I stand beside her.

"You gonna turn me inta the cops?" she is slipping into a slurred speech.

"Yeah." I say, looking around. "What's your name?"

"What's it matter to you?" She looks up at me. "No one ever asks my name. They just ask what I charge for my wares."

"Wares. That's an awful large word for a tramp like you to be using. What's your name?" I ask again, losing patience.

"Diana. Jenny Diana."

"Liar."

She sighs and looks at her feet. "Jenny is my first name. Jenny Rodriguez."

"There we go. It's not a good idea to lie to me, Jenny. I can tell truth from lie at a wink. And you'd best tell the truth."

"Why? You jus' gonna turn me in either way. So what if I tell the truth or not?"

"Do you believe in God?" I ask, kneeling beside her.

"Yeah. I was raised Baptist. They threw me out." She wraps her arms around her knees. "Mom and Dad threw me out too. Said I wasn't good enough."

I chuckled. "Good enough?" I roll my eyes. "No one is ever good enough. Not even me."

"You!" she laughed. "You're a world famous blogger, with everyone's attention on you all the time, and you don't hang around guys, all the gossip about you doesn't make any sense, and it's all messed up. You are perfect."

"Very funny, Jenny." I look her straight in the eye. "I have fear issues. I don't hang out with guys a lot because I expect to get hurt. I run away from everyone and everything because I get afraid of the people who are close to me. Kid, you gotta get some help."

"That's what people say! I don't believe it! What person would give me the time of day? They only give me the time of night!"

"Kid. It's okay. I know a guy. He's pretty cool and doesn't talk much… but he wrote this great book. You know Him already."

"You're telling me that I should go to church. Right?"

I look off. "Church. Silly place. Full of corrupt and broken people. But here we are. Church is awesome sometimes. Stuff happens, life happens and there is nothing we can really do about it." I get up and pull her to her feet. "Come on you. I know a church down the street. The preacher was an old buddy of mine and he'll help you out if you're with me. Come on." I throw my arm around her shoulders and start walking, leaving all but my briefcase behind.


	9. Chapter 9

"Fire?! What do you mean there was a fire?!" I shout at the TV. "I have to go. I have to go see if she's okay! Oh my gosh…" I run around my apartment, grabbing clothes and shoes and checking my wallet and fly around the room. I dash down the stairs and start running for her hotel.

There was a policeman taping off the building.

"Excuse me. There was a woman here…"

"Look buddy, there were a lot of women around here last night. You want to go track her down, good luck. Most of them moved to another hotel, a few went to stay with friends, since no one can leave the state. There's no one around here. You can look on the street for her stuff, we had 5 fatalities. She might have been one of them. Don't cross the line, but lots of stuff is out here from the rooms." He gestured around him at the mess of pillows, books and suitcases.

I started marching around the mess of stuff for over half an hour, and finally found a very burnt copy of her book. A little bit down the sidewalk I found her suitcase.

'Thank the Lord!' I pick it up, since it was knocked on its side, and found a few other things there. Her knitting project was there, along with a pillow and a room key for Room 333. 'This stuff isn't burnt. She probably made it out. Please, dear Lord, let her be alive.'

"Hey, buddy! You find anything?" the cop calls out at me.

"Yeah! I found her suitcase. Can I take it? And this other stuff too? It was all in a pile."

"Sure! Just get it off the street, before we have to donate it."

"You don't need it for evidence and stuff?" I ask picking up the suitcase.

"We've already gone over everything. The place was a chemical fire, set by drug usage on the third floor." He smiled at me as I finished picking up the things. "We've even got it down to one section of the building and in three different rooms."

"Yeah? Which ones?"

"Umm… rooms 331, 332, and 333."

'Oh no. She might have been the one…' no. Must stop this. Must not have doubts. But I don't even know her. I mean, everything she puts on her blog has been kind of snide and sarcastic, maybe she was just high… No! I have to stop. Have to stop.

What am I going to do? I can't find her… and I don't have her number, and she's not even from here… but I know her agent. Cassandra. That's it! I'll find Cassandra… who happens to be…

I check my watch. It reads 9:14. Oh my gosh! I'm late for work and Cassandra had an appointment with one of my co-workers almost 10 minutes ago.

I run down the street, desperate to get to work, even though I know how late I am, I've got to get there. I have to find her.

I arrive at about 9:45.

"Judy!" I must look nuts, carrying a woman's suitcase and this pillow thing and tote bag. "Is Cassandra still here?"

"Yeah. She should be about done though. Down the hall in the old conference room. Why?"

"I need to talk to her! Thanks!" I dash down the hall and stop right outside the door. I hear voices inside and my co-worker walks out.

"Shh. She's on the phone. Hang on a minute man. I'm sure she'll be happy to be your agent too." He smiles at me. This guy never smiles. Must have gone well.

"Okay. Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem. Nice suitcase." I roll my eyes at him.

On the other side of the door I hear Cassandra talking in a panicked voice. "What do you mean your hotel burned down?" a slight pause. "You're where?" another pause. "Okay." Another bit of silence comes over for a while. "Do you have your suitcase? … Yeah… yeah… Okay. I'll go get it. What else? You want donuts? Cake? … Cheesecake? Who eats cheesecake for breakfast?" I hear her laugh. "You do. Of course Eliza dear. Cheesecake. Chocolate. Got it. Love you, bye!"

She opens the door and notices me standing there.

"Hi!" I hand her the suitcase and tote.

"Umm… hi. Who are you?" she sees everything I'm carrying and am dumping on her. "Why do you have Miss Rein's stuff?"

"I'm Jack. Jack McPherson. I just heard about her hotel and went by to see if she was—"

"Hold on, I know you. You're the most dedicated fan of all time to her! You're the stalker guy!"

"Umm yeah, I guess so. Anyway, you have her stuff, so I'm sure she'll want it, and I'll see you!" I dash off to clock in and get some work done before lunch. I'll probably work through it, just to make up time. Sheesh. I'm losing it.


	10. Chapter 10

So I was up all night talking to Jenny about Christ and the pastor had recognized me on sight, and he was more than willing to help. Finally we all could fall asleep and when I woke up I realized I was without my stuff from the hotel. Jenny begged and begged for me to stay, so I called and asked Cassandra if she would go get it, since she knew what it looked like and everything.

She wanted to be sweet and bring me breakfast along with all my stuff, and I love her all the more for it. But back to Jenny. The poor thing. Gosh, her life has been so rough up to this point. She won't let me out of her sight, afraid I will abandon her like everyone else. Some complex huh? She told me all about her boyfriends, girlfriends, addictions, and just about everything else in her life. It wasn't information I really needed, but she needed to get it out, so I got to hear all of it. The pastor, also known as Jeff, listened with her as well. She wanted to get off the drugs and he said he'd help. I have no experience whatsoever with that kind of thing, so I can't say what I thought about it all. She was very afraid of what I would think of her, but I make it my policy never to judge, just like it says in Matthew 7.

When Cassandra finally got down there with my stuff, she was out of breath, wide eyed and not even bothering to pretend like she wasn't hiding something.

"Alright, you're obviously dying to tell me something, out with it."

"I didn't pick up your luggage." She smiled at me mischievously.

"What do you mean you didn't? Then who did?"

"You know, just some guy…"

"Okay, I'll bite. What guy?"

"Your biggest fan. Jack McPherson."

I couldn't help it, my mouth dropped open. This was so much trouble. He had gone above and beyond just being my biggest fan. He was now, at least in my mind, a stalker. Nothing more, nothing less. No doubt he went through it and envisioned me in everything. How foolish!

"Oh, really?" I said, pretending to be bored so she would drop it. I was not disappointed. Her face fell.

"Yes really! Aren't you mad?"

"Mad? Why should I be mad? I got my luggage, and you have brought cheesecake for breakfast! How can I be mad?"

"Because I didn't do it. That man did! I think he likes you!"

"Oh really? What was your first clue? I've been getting that ever since I met him. You are beginning to disinterest me, Cassandra."

"Oh… you're no fun!"

"Cassandra, darling. I do not get paid to be fun, nor will being fun get me back home any sooner. As for Mr. McPherson, I do not believe he holds my acquaintance because I am 'fun' but more for my cruel tone and influence."

"Wow. That was harsh." Jenny cut in, having heard everything because she was sitting in the room.

"Harsh? Jenny, this is why I am still single. They run away when they find out who I truly am."

"They do too. I can't tell you the amount of producers who would be kneeling at her every whim if she'd just be nice." Cassandra cut in.

"Nice? Fun? These words mean nothing to me as of now."

"You don't have fun?" Jenny asked.

"No. At least, not the way you or even Cassandra do. I don't consider going to the movies, getting high or drunk, or even playing videogames to be 'fun.' So there." Wow. Cannot believe they keep bothering me with this! I don't want to have any more to do with that man! I already have a ball to go to tonight, and no dance… I mean, he already likes me, but does Cassandra have to rub it in?

"Really? What do you do for fun then?" Jenny asked.

I thought for a while, trying to remember the last time I had done something "fun" and came up with what I told her. "I sit in my room, with an Alcatraz Smedry book, in my PJ bottoms and tank top. I stay there all day, with only meals of rocky road ice cream and salt &amp; vinegar chips. And _that_ is what I do for fun."

They sat and stared at me for a minute, then looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"What? That is what I do!" they didn't stop laughing at my confused protest.

They didn't stop laughing for several minutes, only frustrating and confusing me further. It wasn't fair. I don't understand humor the way they do!

Oh well. It's funny to them, let them laugh. I got a depressed druggy girl to laugh. YAY ME!

They finally calmed down enough for me to say something else. "Mr. McPherson and I have a date tonight. You girls want to help me pick a dress for the occasion?"

They cheered, so I took it as a yes, grabbed my wallet, told Jeff where we were going and took off.


	11. Chapter 11

I made it through work, all the way through lunch, with Thomas being so annoying.

"So? You followed her home. Did she talk you to death? Do I hear wedding bells?"

"No, Thomas. Leave me alone. I have work to do. She's not very happy with me and she's really mad at you. Can we just leave it alone?"

"Sure, whatever. Did you at least get her number?"

"No. But I got her to go to that ball with me tonight."

"Really? Melissa and I are going together."

"Since when?! You said yourself that Melissa is out of your league! She's not even in our department. What made you go with her?"

Thomas shrugged at my question. "She saw the posters and said she wanted to go. I said I'd take her. So we'll see you and Miss Snotty Pants tonight."

"You're such a child, giving her names like that."

"You're such a stalker, picking her up and going dancing with her like that."

"I don't even know if she dances, Thomas!"

"Well. I hope she makes you happy." He walked away, still steaming that Miss Eliza Rein was kind to what he considered an underling, yet totally dismissed him for trying to honor her.

I had no idea how on earth I could find her after her hotel burned down, so I talked to the co-worker that never smiles that talked with Cassandra earlier and got Cassandra's number.

"Hello? Miss Cassandra?"

"Yes, honey? How can I help you?"

"I'm trying to find where I'm supposed to meet Eliza – I mean, Miss Rein, for the ball tonight… you know… since her hotel burned down."

"Oh! Well, at the moment, honey, she's trying on a couple of dresses. You know the church that's just up the road from there? She's staying there for now." There was a great deal of noise in the background. "She says she'll be at the church at 6, ready to go. And thank you for picking up her suitcase."

"It was no big deal. Thank you. I'll be at the church."

I was so happy when 6 o'clock came around and I could take a taxi down to the church, which is a sister church to my home church, to go see Miss Eliza Rein. I just love the way the words look. She's extremely charming in my mind. So kind, trying to show love and kindness to people… except that it might just be a front. I still haven't forgotten about her being the one who might have started the fire. Is she really a druggie? After all my stalking, wouldn't there be some sign that she does drugs? Or that she started the fire? No. Have to stop this doubt! But… what if?

She came out of the church and down the front steps, dressed in a fancy, old-fashioned dress, with the cape that she had been working on the night before draped over her shoulders. I don't think I'd ever seen anything so stunning or radiant as that woman looked just then. So soft in the shoulders, the dress wasn't revealing, yet she fit it perfectly. If she were born in another time, I would have loved to have seen her in that kind of outfit all the time. It just seemed to suit her.

"Hello, Mr. McPherson." She said as soon as she reached the bottom.

"Hello, Miss Rein. Ready to go?"

"Of course. That's why I'm out here." The outfit might be radically different, but the girl was still the same. Darn. I guess clothes _don't_ make the woman.


	12. Chapter 12

I got into the taxi with him, careful not to get my cape caught up in the door. I worked on it for over a month, there was no way I was going to let it get dirty on its first outing. Cassandra and Jenny would be fine for one evening without me and I promised I would be home before 11, because I really hate being out at night, especially in foreign places. However, this is the city that never sleeps, so why should I? Gosh, I had to have been out of my mind, writing that. I love sleep more than breathing.

He was clad very dashingly in an old-fashioned 3-piece suit. He looked like he had walked right out of a Charles Dickens' novel and I was very impressed that he even got his hair and shoes right. This man knew how to do things right, as authentically as they could possibly be.

We didn't talk at all in the taxi, not for lack of things to talk about apparently, once we got to the ball, there was that very rude friend of his standing with a young lady who would have done well not to have worn so much blush. Her face looked like a bright red tomato. I was not impressed at how he was holding her arm, or how he looked at me when Mr. McPherson opened the door for me. I stuck my nose up in the air in the snootiest way I possibly could as we walked up to him.

"Good evening." I said coldly.

"Good evening, Miss Rein." He answered, proudly showing off his girl, "I would like you to meet Melissa."

"A pleasure." I bowed my head to her, and she bowed her head in return before speaking.

"It's, like, wonderful to meet you! You're, like, quite the, like, scandal around the office, like, all the time." Oh gosh. I shudder even now at that voice. She was the ultimate Valley Girl. It was all I could do not to run screaming down the street. Now that I look back on that night, I see really clearly that I was set up like a clown in a ring. I was set up with a stalker, a Valley Girl, and a jerk. This evening would not go well, I was sure of it, and yet, I was supposed to make the audience laugh.

We walked up the stairs, and into the ballroom. I've seen a lot of parties in my time, but this was really old-timey. An ancient chandelier was hanging far above us, and the food was set all in crystal, nothing packaged, no potato chips, nothing highly processed or artificially flavored. Not even soda was to be found on that buffet table. It was really amazing.

The outfits had a very broad range. There must have been some kind of limit on the dates for the outfits, since I did not see a costume that belonged outside of the pre-1920s. There were many people there, all very well dressed for authenticity, with varying levels. There were a few young men who were attempting to pull off a decent bootlegger outfit, but threw it all off by wearing Puma sneakers with it. Sheer disrespect, disregard and erroneous behavior on their part. By now you must think I get annoyed with everything, but I must say that I am not alone in this: inauthentic behavior is a disregard for the time and a disrespect for the people who wore the outfit before. This makes it very wrong and I would have liked very much at that moment to smack those idiots upside the head and throw them out. But it was not my party and I was dressed like a lady, corset and all.

I tried very desperately to not talk to people, but everywhere I turned, people recognized my face.

"Didn't I see you on the news?"

"I hear your hotel burned down, you must be devastated!"

"Dude, you rocked that debate."

"You are an utter disgrace to your generation, behaving like that to your elder!"

And so it went on. People are often amazed at how quickly I can cut through a crowd. I am often amazed myself. People shut up very quickly when I speak, and I'm still trying, even after all these years, to control what it is that I say, trying desperately not to kill someone for being stupid. Those that would insult me find out immediately that I don't take their tone, but flash it right back at them, making them eat their words. Others, that would complement me genuinely, find that I am extremely polite, but very blunt. And still others, like that Thomas man, learn that I bite hard when I'm flattered, as you have seen before. He didn't give up. The whole time, he was announcing to the whole room just how well he was doing at work, how much he and Mellissa worshiped me, and so on and so forth. I was getting very annoyed.

"I think your work is the best of them all, hands down, upon the internet today. No one can formulate a sentence in quite the same way you can."

"That's because _I'm_ the one saying it." I muttered under my breath. Jack was very fond of ignoring me, looking around the room like he was expecting someone. He must have spotted them, for he took my arm very suddenly, and drove me across the dance floor towards a man.

"Sir! Mr. Daniels, sir." He said once we were close. I recognized the man from the room full of publishers.

"Good evening, Mr. McPherson." He replied cordially, looking very intently at me. "Who is this young lady?"

"Sir, I would like you to meet Miss Eliza Rein." He held my hand up so that I could curtsey without falling over.

"Good evening, Mr. Daniels." I said as politely as I could. Cassandra would get off my back if I got this guy to publish me. He's published all the best of my time, especially for such a stingy old guy.

"Yes, I believe we have met before, have we not, Miss Rein? A meeting a few days ago? Or was it just yesterday?"

"You flatter me, sir. Yes, we have met before. Please, forgive my actions and my words. I was very rash."

"Indeed you were. However, I have heard through the grape-vine that you have gotten a few books out to the public, without a publisher."

"Yes sir, I have. I took the liberty of passing out a few as payment to my greatest fans."

Mr. Daniels gestured to Jack. "Here stands your greatest fan of them all. Does he also have a copy?"

"No sir. He has yet to win that honor. For anyone can stalk my regular haunts, but not just anyone can support me enough to call themselves a fan."

"I see. You are looking for someone who knows what you drink and can make it then?"

"You've met Timothy!" Jack cut in.

"Of course. He's the best waiter on his street. He told me all about you. He claimed that you were extremely kind to him, when no one else at the table was. Is that your interpretation?"

"Yes sir." Jack said, before looking guilty, recognizing that the question was directed at me.

I thought very carefully before answering, picking my next words with great care. "My companions could have been a great deal more kind to Timothy, since they were often at the café and he knew them as soon as they walked in, as well as what they drink. I was a stranger, yet he treated me with the same care. He knew who I was, what I do, and what I drink. He did not worship me, flattering me with pretty words, nor did he insult me, trying to validate himself that I was not all that is said about me. He treated me politely. I attempted to do the same. Whether or not I succeeded is up to him."

"Well said, Miss Rein. Very well said." Mr. Daniels took my hand and bowed. "I'll be happy to publish that book of yours." He handed me his card. "Just send it to me."

"Yes sir!" I smiled happily. "I'll be sure to do that as soon as possible."

"Thank you." He walked away. I nearly fainted.

"Well, that went well." I said, trying to relax.


	13. Chapter 13

Our very brief conversation with Mr. Daniels proved to be a rather stressful thing to Miss Rein. She was clenching my hand very tightly the entire time and I believe it was all my fault. I had heard that he would be attending the ball, and thought I might be of some service to her. Well, I was right. She seemed almost pleased, her face quite red for the longest time.

"Are you alright, Miss Rein?"

"Of course I am. I just got an offer from a publisher. Why wouldn't I be alright?" she got very quiet, staring off into space like she'd been offered a million dollars.

"Because you seem rather stressed."

"I am perfectly alright, thank you. And thank you for showing him to me. Opening that opportunity. I think I need to sit down." I guided her over to the chairs nearby, letting her sit. She chose a different pose from when we were at the café yesterday, crossing her ankles and shifting them to her left slightly, hands folded so delicately in her lap.

"Do you want some punch or something?"

"Yes. A drink would be nice. As long as it's non-alcoholic."

"Of course. Thank you." I go to get a couple of drinks, and Thomas gets my attention.

"Hey, buddy." He leans against the table.

"Go away, Thomas." I try to ignore him.

"Aw, come on. You know I liked her longer. I'm the one who showed you her blog in the first place. So why does she like you better than me? Society—"

"—would be better if we didn't have jerks like you forcing yourselves on ladies like Miss Rein. She's a good woman. She can do what she likes, and if she wants you to stay away, you'd better. I don't think she likes me better, other than how I treat her. Get your crap together, Thomas, and leave us alone."

"Dude!" he holds his hands in surrender. "Did you just swallow her? That was like something she would say."

"Good! Maybe she's a good influence on me. You sure aren't." I snap, turning away.

"What did you say to me?!" he says, angry.

"Nothing." I change the subject, talking over my shoulder. "Weren't you the one who insisted I go to the debate? That she was perfect for me?"

"That was before I met her myself. Saw just how beautiful and perfect she is in real life."

"She's not perfect. And you don't have to get so protective! She's not my girlfriend. We are not dating. You can't keep acting like this and hope for one second that she will be impressed!" I face him. "You freak her out dude. You aren't nice."

"Oh and you are?! You stalked this girl for 3 years, Jack! She's impressed with that?!"

"I don't know! I don't know what impresses her or not, I just know your behavior doesn't! I'm just trying to be nice and you're just being a—" he decks me before I can finish my statement.

"DON'T YOU DARE SAY IT!" he shouts at me, as the glasses of punch in my hands fly up all over me, soaking me. "I'M BETTER THAN YOU! SO WHY DOES SHE LIKE YOU BETTER?!" a bunch of people are holding him back, as he lunges at me.

Miss Eliza Rein, ever timely, appears at my side, her dress gracing the floor beside me, her cape left on the chair where I left her. She looks very sternly at him.

"Mr. Thomas." She clips, her voice clearly angry. "I believe that your manners would do well in the street up front. Since you cannot behave indoors, I ask that you leave. If the person in charge of this event is present, I am sorry, but somebody has to tell this violent buffoon to leave."

A man comes up behind her, very large and muscular, picks Thomas up by the arms, and hauls his butt outside. A rather wealthy man runs over to us, obviously the organizer of this event, and apologizes.

"I am so sorry! Are you hurt? Are either of you hurt? I am so sorry about your suit, sir. I'll be more than happy to pay for compensation—"

"It's fine. I probably deserved it." I can feel the bruise on my jaw already developing. "I was egging him on. I'll just leave." I turn to Miss Rein. "I'm sorry. I should have behaved better—"

"Oh do shut up." She rubs her eyes. "I'm ready to go back to the church anyway. I've had enough of this party. Thank you for allowing me to be here, sir, but I think I shall be leaving. It was a lovely ball and I do hope to attend again someday, under better circumstances."

"Yes, Miss Rein. Thank you for attending. It was very good publicity for the ball."

"Thank you. I needed to get out, I think." She curtseys slightly and walks away, grabbing her cape. I must say, it suits her very well. It flies out lightly behind her, the edges cover her shoulders and sits across her biceps, making her well-muscled arms appear less thick, more ladylike. I caught myself staring and she had her arms folded, staring at me.

"Well, Mr. MacPherson? Are you taking me back to the church or do you simply enjoy being covered in punch and dripping on the floor?"

"Oh! Of course. No! I mean, I don't like dripping on the floor—I mean, I don't enjoy being covered in punch. I will be happy to take you back to the church."

"Good. Then what are you staring at?" she turns around and marches to the front doors, the cape swishing behind her. I don't answer and we have a very quiet taxi ride back.


	14. Chapter 14

Idiot and damned fool! I despise Thomas all the more. To attack another man for being kind in public, the audacity! I must remind myself to carry mace and maybe a handgun if I get the chance. Jack, at the very least, had the decency not to get up and fight back. He has very poor choice in friends, but perhaps Thomas is simply a very different person when not infatuated with a woman like me.

"Miss Rein?"

"Yes?" I pull out of my thoughts. We're at the church. He's holding the door for me. "Oh. Of course. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He closes the door behind me, taking care not to catch my cape. He keeps staring. I can't tell whether it is at my cape, or my backside. Which is pretty much the same thing at the moment.

"What _are_ you staring at?!" I snap at him and his eyes immediately focus on my eyes.

"Just your workmanship. I saw you working on this earlier, and it didn't look like much, but it suits you very well. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare."

"Please stop. It's making me uncomfortable. You're welcome to stay, but I would assume that you would like to get out of that outfit."

"Yes. Thank you."

"You're welcome. And thank you. For introducing me to Mr. Daniels."

"You're welcome. Goodnight." He says, bowing.

"Goodnight." I bow my head and turn my back, going inside, very aware that he is staring at me.

The girls are all over me as soon as I get in the door. By "The girls" I mean Jenny and Cassandra.

"Did he kiss you?!"

"What happened?"

"Why do you look so upset?"

"Did he hurt you?"

"Is he staying?"

"Are you going to a hotel with him?"

"SILENCE!" I bellow, shutting up their idiotic questions. "It's late, I'm tired, he's covered in punch and going home to take care of his bruised jaw. Jenny, the cops are going to be here shortly, taking you into custody. Apparently they have enough evidence to arrest a suspect." I put my hand on her shoulder. "Jesus still loves you, but you have to pay for your crime."

"I know." She says, defeated. "He forgives me, but the law sure won't."

"It will be good for you, Jenny. You'll get to talk with God a lot." I smile at her. "You'll be alright. This church should be here when you get out. Even if I'm not." I wish them both a goodnight and march to the couch in the youth room, where I slept last night. Cassandra comes in.

"Honey, did you have two men fighting over you tonight?" she asks, sitting at my feet.

"Probably. I didn't hear all of it. Jack was just insulting Thomas' behavior. The man's a loose cannon, lost control and punched Jack." I yawn. "It's never happened to me, but that doesn't make it unusual for the New York people. Or even dating people."

"It just means that you're desirable, honey. You should be proud of that fact."

"I am very proud of my desirability, despite the fact that I am a very angry and fairly violent woman myself. I am quite angry with the both of them, but am willing to go crawl under a rock for the time being."

"Oh don't do that. Didn't you have fun?"

"Yes! Oh! I forgot!" I hand her the card Mr. Daniels gave me. "Here. Jack knew Mr. Daniels would be there tonight and he wants to publish my book, just as soon as we can get it to him. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course, honey! What's an agent for?" she winks. "You get some sleep. I'll find you another hotel for tomorrow. I do wish the snow would let up out there. I have other places to be, you know!"

"I know, Cassandra. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."


	15. Chapter 15

'Brilliant. Just great. I'm covered with punch and she just about had a fit. Dang I wish I weren't so stupid.' I'm standing in front of my bathroom mirror, admiring the bruise developing. Why did Thomas have to go and ruin a perfectly good evening? The poor woman obviously didn't want to be cooped up all the time. Aw, who am I kidding? I should just leave her totally alone. She didn't come to New York to be badgered by a crazy freak like me.

But am I really a crazy freak? She keeps calling me a stalker, and so does Thomas. But that's only because I am a stalker. A really creepy, the-kind-your-mama-warned-you-about, creepy stalker. I have got no business with this girl, she didn't have any idea who I was until a couple days ago. I have completely diluted myself into believing that something might come out of me knowing everything there is to know about her. I should just stay out of her way. Leave her alone.

What do I do about Thomas? He went and punched me tonight. For what?! A pretty girl that neither of us knows? Who does he think he is? I know he's usually pretty violent when he's had a few drinks, but I've never seen him get that bad over a girl. A girl that neither of us knows! I said that already. I scratch my head and just go lay on the bed.

I live in an apartment by myself. I don't even have a dog, I'm so alone. Maybe that's why I've been clinging to the thought of this girl for so long. I've been too dang lonely. Maybe she is too.

Not if she's a druggie. NO! Stupid. Why does that keep coming back? Why do I keep thinking that she is? She doesn't smell like drugs, she doesn't seem like the type that would do that, and I've been watching her for years. Surely there was something, somewhere that would have given her away. No. I refuse to believe that Miss Eliza Rein would be a drug user. Then again, Colorado does have marijuana legalized now… STOP! Where are these thoughts coming from?! Just because it's legal does not mean that she burned down her hotel!

I turn on the news, trying to distract myself. A newscaster on it is talking about the fire.

"The police have arrested a young lady today for starting the hotel fire downtown last night. Her name has been released as a Ms. Jenny Rodriguez and her boyfriend, who are being held for arson, drug abuse, and Ms. Rodriguez is being charged for prostitution."

AHAHA! I nearly skipped with glee when I heard that. She didn't do it! She's totally innocent! Why did I ever doubt? She's totally innocent. They show a picture of the girl who had the charges against her. Hey. It's that girl from the church when I picked Miss Rein up tonight. Great. New question: Why does Miss Eliza hang around with drug abusers and prostitutes?

Because she is one, stupid. She might not have started the fire, but she is hanging around with some shady characters, it looks like.

But I'll never know unless I ask her.


	16. Chapter 16

I wake up the next day and decide I don't want to get up. I have no business getting up today, nobody to see, maybe the stalker guy will leave me alone and Cassandra is handling what happened last night with Mr. Daniels.

Jeff knocks on my door. "Hey, Eliza. Breakfast is ready whenever you are."

"Thanks, Jeff, but I am not hungry. I'm beat. I'll just sleep today. It's been too exciting for me these past couple of days."

"Okay. If you change your mind, we'll be down at Central Park at around 1."

"Thanks." He leaves and I just snuggle deeper into my blankets. I really needed a vacation.

I sleep for the next 6 hours or so, but Jeff and his family aren't back yet, so I figure, eh, what the heck. Might be good to go for a walk. I shower, get dressed, catch a cab and go walking around Central Park. It's not bad for being winter. There's snow and stuff around, but it's not really snow. It's filthy, dark, slushy snow that we only get downtown back home.

Man, now I'm homesick! I was doing so good. I was so distracted and didn't have any reason to be nervous, or worried, or anything. I was doing fine. I didn't remember my room, or get distracted by the way this place smells…

Dang.

I guess that MacPherson guy was a pretty good distraction. He knew how to show a girl how to not miss their family, or their home… their own bed… the regular comforts… the stars… the snow…..

Great. Now I'm going to cry. Real grownup, Eliza, go ahead, cry. You're wandering around Central Park, somewhere you've always wanted to go, and you're gonna cry because it's not home. Big baby. You can go home and see all kinds of parks, all things beautiful. These people live in a giant concrete box, with this one park to see any of God's beauty beyond the clouds, and you're crying. They live in darkness and you want to go home. Dry up, Eliza. Stop being so selfish.

I guess I really shouldn't have gotten up today. I should have just stayed on the couch and slept. But no. I have to be the bloody genius that goes outside on a beautiful day, just to wander around get some exercise. Now I have to have a lesson on selfishness. Thanks a lot.

I wander all the way around, not really paying much attention to my surroundings. I keep on talking to God in my head, hearing Him talk back.

"You've been selfish, haven't you, Eliza?"

"Yes. Extremely. On this trip especially. It's been about me, me, me this whole time. I came because I wanted to. I wanted to get my book published. I wanted to make Cassandra happy with the debate. I wanted to show up that idiot lady. I wanted to shut Thomas up. I wanted, I want, I need, me, me, me."

"And what are you going to do about it?"

"Make it not about me? Make it about You?"

"That's my girl."

I just smile and keep walking, barely paying attention at all anymore. I crash into someone.

"Oof! Sorry! I'm sorry!" oh crap. It's Jack MacPherson.


	17. Chapter 17

I just crashed, full on into Miss Eliza Rein! OH CRAP!

"Eliza! I mean—Miss Rein! I mean—hello! Um, hi. Sorry. I—I wasn't—I mean, you… Hi." She looks like I'm holding a gun to her head. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Brilliant." She shudders out of it, her face washing emotion off. "Are you okay? I apologize. I ought to have been watching where I was going."

"Yeah, I'm fine. I should have known better. I was just…."

"Lost in thought?" she ventured. "Me too."

We just stood there awkwardly not saying anything. Come on, Jack! Be a man! Be cool! Say something!

"So. I'll be going now." She says, walking in the same direction she was going.

"Miss Eliza?" she stops, looking at me. "Do you want a drink?"

She stands there for what seems like forever. I take the opportunity of seeing her perfectly still to actually look at her. Really look at her. Silently. She may be only an inch smaller than me, but she's built so delicately. She doesn't look it, but her slight build gives her away. She's so pretty. Blonde highlights, brown hair and eyes that could cut like a surgeon or penetrate like a killer. She looks like she's been crying.

"Yeah."

"Huh?" I say, breaking my concentration.

"Yeah. I'd like a drink." She nods, stepping closer. "Lead the way."

I take her back to the same café we went to when Thomas was an idiot. Man. Putting up with him today was awful. He wouldn't really let me get all that much work done, so I told the boss I was taking it home. And I was. I was going home. But there she was. She follows me, one step behind me, very quiet. It seems like she does that sometimes. Just falls into these moments of thought that can't be shaken. She looks so gentle that way. She doesn't look like anything special, or someone with so much power when she's like that. I wonder what she looks like when she writes her blog.

Man, Jack, you have got to control your stalker nature. She's choosing to hang out with you again, isn't that enough?

Yeah. Yeah. Just hanging with her is enough.

We sit down a few booths down from the one we sat at two days ago, and Timothy comes right over with our orders.

"Hello, Miss Rein. It's very nice seeing you again."

"Hello, Timothy. I hear you gave a good report of me to Mr. Daniels." She speaks politely, no edge or harshness in her tone.

"Yes, ma'am. I am sorry I didn't ask your permission, but he was asking."

"It's alright. You needn't apologize." She looks out the window, mind on other things. "You probably just saved my career. I thank you." She looks back, totally sincere.

Timothy blushes. "It's nothing, ma'am. Just my duty to tell the truth. Isn't that what you do?"

She smiles, not showing her teeth. "Yes. But sometimes the truth is better kept inside my head than out my fingers or my big mouth."

"Indeed, ma'am. But no one else will say it."

She nods, very distracted. "And maybe for a good reason." He nods to us and leaves us alone.

I sit there, letting her look out the window for several minutes, just drinking my water and letting her drink that crazy M&amp;M hot chocolate stuff. She keeps very quiet, which is not what I know of this lady. Maybe she's getting sick or something. She doesn't make eye contact with me, and hasn't since we literally ran into each other today.

"If you have something to say, Mr. MacPherson, please say it." She says quietly after a long time.

"I … I just would like to… ask some questions, if I may."

"Please. Go right ahead." She looks at me, not very attentive, but showing that she's at least trying to pay attention.

"Do you know who started the fire the other night?"

She nods, looking at me like it's no big deal. "It was the girl who was in the room next to mine and some guy. Her name's Jenny."

"Wasn't she the girl I saw last night?"

"Yeah. The cops picked her up right after I got back. Said they had enough evidence to make an arrest. She already told me she did it."

"But you still brought her to the church?"

"Yeah." Her tone has no sharpness at all, startling me. She doesn't think I'm attacking her. What has gotten into her today? "She needed somewhere to stay, someone to listen. I was there, I picked her out. No big deal." She shrugs.

"Even though she started the fire? Even though you could have gotten really hurt? And five people died?"

"Tell me this, Mr. MacPherson, if you were Jesus, what would you have done?" I sit there in stunned silence. No edge in her tone, but she was asking an honest question of me. She just wanted to know. What the heck?

"I—I-I don't know what I would have done. I… if I were Jesus, I'd have probably just prevented the fire."

"And let Jenny continue to wallow in her sin?" she leans forward onto her elbows on the tabletop.

"Well, no."

"No. You wouldn't have. But she'd never learn if she didn't get caught." She leans back. "I think that's why bad stuff happens. To teach us something."

"Like the snow keeping you here?" I ask and immediately regret it. Shut up, Jack!

She just nods, and goes back to staring out the window. "Yeah…" she says, and goes back to being silent.


	18. Chapter 18

I didn't mean to run into him, but now we're just having a drink. I had to dial the selfishness back a whole lot. I really didn't want to scare this guy any more. I don't think I said all that much. He seemed very interested in the fire. I didn't start it, but I definitely thought somebody needed to help Jenny out. The poor girl needed to learn that what she was doing was wrong, that there was a better way, and she didn't have to succumb to temptation all the time to be free. She was valuable. She was a great person who had done bad things.

Mr. MacPherson has been staring at me, I bet. But I don't really care. I was too busy thinking. Thinking about what I'd done wrong these past few days. But I guess the guy really hit on a very specific thing: I wasn't selfish about Jenny. I gave her my time, effort, kindness, and patience. I'd given her a chance, even when nobody else ever would.

Oh dang! Here come the tears again. No. I will not cry. I will not cry like the big baby I am. Not in front of the stalker. No, no, no! I take a deep breath, trying to clear my eyes. Too late.

"Miss Rein?" he asks, looking very concerned. "Are you okay?"

Yeah. Of course I am. Are you stupid? I have the world kneeling at my feet, I'm where I've always wanted to be, and all I want is to go home. Home. Where my parents and siblings are. Where I feel wanted, needed, desired, and actually am. The one place I actually belong. I don't belong in the jungle out here. I don't belong and everything around me just announces it. I don't belong.

"Miss Rein?"

"Yeah?" I turn, trying to focus without crying.

"Are you okay? Do you want me to take you to the church?" he has an edge of something I can't place in his voice. Something soft, but not quite affectionate, more than concern.

"No. I'm okay. I don't want to head back just yet. I probably just need to go for a walk."

"Okay. You don't look okay." He gets up, offering me his hand.

"I'm sorry. Just tired." I take his hand, getting up. He keeps quiet and we leave the building. "Thanks for the drink."

"No problem." He says, watching me.

I started walking off, not sure where I was going or why. I guess I was so out of it earlier, I couldn't have possibly thought of anything. I was so focused on clearing my head, I had no idea if he was following me or not. I had no idea where I was or where I was going, but I kept walking and kept walking.


	19. Chapter 19

She walked off, and didn't even say goodbye. There was definitely something wrong with her. Any idiot could see that. I followed her several paces behind, even though she was headed to a pretty bad part of town. I didn't have my gun on me, even though I am allowed to carry one. I just can't take it into work with me and since that's where I came from… I didn't have it. And she was walking. And walking. I just followed her for over an hour, and my feet were really starting to hurt.

She poked her head up and looked around, apparently coming out of whatever held her thoughts. I figured she didn't know that I wasn't the only guy following her, and I had a pretty good guess these thugs weren't interested in offering her a drink.

The tallest guy stepped to her side, all suave and jerky, like he was something else. He put her arm around her waist and said something that made her snap at him. Three of his buddies surrounded her. It just about got bad.

Except for me and a cop. I had no idea where he came from—hang on. I'm ahead of myself.

I showed up first. I yelled at them.

"Hey! Idiots! Leave the lady alone!" she looked at me with fear and gratitude.

"Who ya callin' an idiot, prep boy?" one of those sagging jerks barked back.

"You! Leave her alone! You have no business here. Go home. Haven't you heard the news? Don't you know who she is?"

"Yeah. Miss Rein. Pretty little virgin girl." Another snide African American twangs at me, stroking her jaw. "We think we can fix that for her." She starts screaming bloody murder.

Now, for some people, hearing a woman scream is nothing foreign, since we see horror movies all the time. Not me. That girl was screaming something else. I hear screams sometimes around town, but apparently they have a different way of screaming where she's from. I was sure that something in my ears broke. I mean, her lungs were powerful and painful. The guys were all scrambling right then, like they'd never heard anything like it either.

A cop came running around the corner in a car. He stopped right next to her, and she was still screaming.

"HEY!" he tried to shut her up, but she just wouldn't. "MISS! **_HEY! SHUT UP_**!" she shut up.

Now that I look back on it, it's almost comical. The three thugs standing around her, ears ringing and clearly in pain, the officer looking at her like she's crazy, and her just standing there in the middle of it all, so small and calm.

"Yes, officer? You here to arrest these guys for threatening to rape me?"

Long story short, the cop hauled the guys in, she saw me standing there, and we went back to the church together. She didn't talk very much, but was far more alert than she had been earlier. I had dinner with her and the family she was staying with. They were really nice to me.

Eventually I had to get home, since I am a gentleman, and am not going to sleep in a church if I can help it.

"I hope I run into you again sometime, Miss Rein."

She wished me goodnight, and I went home.


	20. Chapter 20

He probably saved my life. And I didn't even thank him. What kind of girl am I that I have no sense of gratitude? None! I was stupid, walking off by myself in a strange environment, and I almost got really hurt for it. If he hadn't… if he wasn't there… I'd have been very hurt. I try really hard not to think about what would have happened if he wasn't there. So yeah, he's a stalker. But he's apparently a really good guy too. Cassandra dropped by around bedtime.

"Hi, honey! I talked with Mr. Daniels today."

"Yeah? Come on in. It's cold out there." She steps in, ever proud and elegant.

"I can't stay long. But I will say that he has his people on it, and it should be published in the next 6 months!"

"Yeah! Finally! Thank you! Thank you Cassandra! You're the best."

"I know, darling. You can say it again if you want."

I laugh. "Yeah. You're the best."

"Eliza, darling, are you feeling alright? You never use words like 'yeah' in conversation."

"I'm just a little out of it today. Falling into old habits." I smile. "I ran into Jack today."

"Oh he's 'Jack' now, is he?"

"Yes. I got bored with calling him 'you know, that creepy stalker guy' so now he's just Jack. Got a problem with that?"

"No. Just odd that you seemed to avoid him so passionately before, and now you're on a first-name basis. Is there something going on?" Cassandra's eyes dance like they do when she watches a soap opera or a movie that has a couple that she's shipping heavily.

"No. There's nothing going on. I just happen to see him everywhere, all the time. I guess I just made the mistake of getting up this morning. I didn't have to, but I did. Oops."

"Not oops! Nope! If you want to go on another date with this wonderful '_Jack'_" she sings his name at me, "I can have it arranged in no time. Candles, romantic music, dancing… whatever you want, Eliza."

"Sure!" my voice drips with sarcasm. "I know, let's make it so he can stay in his sweats, make sure they play rock and roll, and serve beer!"

"Oh stop that. He sounds lovely. I really want you to be happy. This whole story might make your next book, Eliza, darling!"

"Uh, no. My next book is already in the works. I sent it to you, remember?"

She sighs at me, clearly exasperated with my lack of enthusiasm at her idea. "Yes. That co-author thing you've been working on for years and years and _finally_ managed to get it to me. I have some fantasy publishing company all over it. Don't worry."

"You know I won't."

Cassandra keeps looking at me, with that infuriating glance of "kiss the girl" or "marry that boy" she always gets. I stopped watching anything with her because of that look. Even "The Little Mermaid" wasn't safe. She's a fabulous publisher, but she and I went to high school together. We grew up and have been getting along really well ever since. I'm her best customer, and we both love our jobs. On occasion, she will question my mental health when I send her some things, but mostly she knows I'm okay.

"I just wanted to tell you about that. I want you to be happy, Eliza, sweetheart."

"I am happy. I want to go home. I've been really homesick today. You don't happen to know somewhere…"

"I do. However, I'm not sure if this _Jack_ will want to go do that with you."

"He doesn't have to. I just need that smell. Come on, Cassandra. _Pleaaaaaseee_!" I make my classic begging eyes that always bend her to my will.

"ALRIGHT! Fine. Fine. Don't—turn off those eyes! ELIZA! Stop!" I turn them off, hugging her tightly.

"Thank you." I let go. "Can I go tomorrow?"

"Yes. Of course. I'll even arrange for a taxi to drop you off and pick you up. Is that okay?"

"Wonderful. I'm so glad. I didn't think a city would have horses."

"We do have a mounted police force, Eliza. We're not totally drowned in the artificial."

"Uh huh." I say doubtfully, smirking at her. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Do you want Jack to go with you?"

"Can I go without him?" I ask, trying not to sound desperate.

"Ummm…. No." she smiles at me.

"Fine. Fine. Thank you, Cassandra. You're the best agent ever."

"I'm sorry, say again?" she rubs her ear like she didn't hear me.

"You heard me the first time and you know I mean it. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."


	21. Chapter 21

I wake to my cellphone ringing at about 10 AM. It's my day off. What idiot is calling me? I sleep on my day off. I look at the number. It's not one I recognize with foggy brain on. Probably a telemarketer.

"Hello?" I say softly, my voice thick.

"Hello!" It's Cassandra's bright accent. She sounds like a morning person. "Am I speaking to Mr. Jack McPherson?"

"Yeah. That's me. Wha'sup?" I get up from the bed, not sure why she's calling me.

"Would you like to go horseback riding with Miss Rein this afternoon?" Well, that got my attention. I jumped in surprise and ended up flopping all over the floor, tied up in my sheets and looking like a demented fish. "Mr. McPherson? Are you alright?"

"YEAH! Wow that was loud. Yeah. I'd love to go see Miss Rein. Horseback riding. Okay. Yeah. I'd love to."

"I thought you might." She tells me when and where and says she'll send a taxi for me, and then it will go get Eliza. "I think she likes you."

"I don't know what she thinks. Is she okay, you know, after yesterday?"

"Oh, the whole 'almost got raped' thing? It didn't even phase her. She's really glad you saved her though. I just got off the phone with her."

"Good. I'm glad. Thanks Cassandra. I'll be ready. Promise." I smile before remembering that she can't see me.

"That's just fine then. Good day, Mr. McPherson!"

"Bye." We hang up and I fight to get free from my murderous sheets. I get to spend all afternoon with Eliza Rein! Horseback riding no less! I've only gone riding a couple times in the past few years, but I'm not bad. I wonder how good she is. Probably really good, since she comes from Colorado. Wow. I get to go riding! I skip around the room like a lunatic, turning on the radio and getting dressed appropriately in my riding jeans and a comfortable shirt. "Every Breath You Take" by The Police comes on the radio as I sit down to breakfast, reminding me even more of her.

Why would Cassandra call me and have me go do that with Eliza? Does Eliza even know that I'm going to be there? I grab my cellphone and go through my contacts, finding that I don't have Eliza's number. I never got it. My only communications with Eliza have been in person. Otherwise, it's been through Cassandra. Wow. That's totally weird. And cool, I guess, since I've been known to be a person who texts constantly, whenever I get the chance. A couple of my old girlfriends kept saying it was rude and demanded to know who I was texting. All they'd find on my phone were a bunch of really sarcastic texts and short replies, typically between me and my guy friends.

Eliza Rein. Wonder what she'd do about all my old girlfriends. Probably analyze them and know right off what a bunch of twits they are. Okay, I admit, I haven't had very good choices in girlfriends in the past, but Eliza and I aren't dating. She's just in town and can't leave and is lonely… wow. I'm a great stalker, aren't I? I adore her and her work, but don't know that much about her. I don't even have her phone number. Dang.

Note to self: get Eliza Rein's number before she leaves. Or at least her personal e-mail address.

The taxi shows up and I'm right there, ready to go. I hop in and we take off for the church. I feel just like one of those little three year old kids that are just bouncing up and down on Christmas morning. I shouldn't feel like this. We're not dating. She doesn't even really like me. Or does she…?

I open the door and there she is, sitting at the bottom of the steps, a couple steps up, looking even more beautiful than she did in the dress and cape. She's just wearing jeans and a loose, button-up, plaid shirt, but she looks absolutely stunning.

"Hello Eliza."

"Hello Jack." She looks up and gets up, holding her hand out for a handshake. "Thanks for going with me."

"Yeah, no problem."

"I do appreciate it. Even though it was all Cassandra's idea." I smile.

"That's cool. Please. Let's go."

"Sure." She gets in and I get in and try not to be totally awkward.

Our taxi driver looks between the two of us in the rearview mirror. "I's a long drive out there, missy. You sure you wanna be in her wit him?" The driver indicates me, probably suspecting we're going to be awkwardly making out the whole drive.

"Yes. I'd like to be at the destination. Company is relative and what you make of it." She smiles at him, being as kind to him as she did Timothy. "I'm Eliza Rein. And you are?"

"John Campbell, Miss Rein. Pleased to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you. I'm assuming you know where we're going?"

"Of course. I'm the driver, ain't I?"

"I don't know, are you?" she teases.

I must have a surprised look on my face, staring at her. This was not the same girl I've gotten accustomed to over the past several days.

"I am the driver, I know where we're going, and I'd like it if the two of you would keep your hands to yourselves." The side of his mouth quirks up, knowing she's just teasing.

"Oh, him?" Eliza smiles at me. "He's not going to touch me at all if he knows what's good for him."

"Would you two not talk about me like I'm not here?" I cut in, a little shaken at her behavior.

"Why not? You thought you and I were the only ones in the car? Can't I talk to the third wheel here?" she chuckles at her own joke, confusing me more.

"Hey! Who you callin' a third wheel, missy?"

"You're the one who assumed he and I were together, Mr. John Campbell." She quips, just as fast.

"Well now. That I did. He was holding the door for you and everything. It's natural for a fellow to assume romance bein' involved when a fella does something like that."

"Don't make assumptions about me, Mr. Campbell. I've been known to throw curveballs at people's heads." She smiles, teasing the driver more as we go along.

"Hey now! I'm driving! I think you'd be wise not to go throwing anything in here."

"AW! I can't even punch Jack? I can't even throw punches? How's your jaw, by the way?" she turns to me, looking at the side of my face.

"It hurts, thanks. Not as bad as yesterday, but it still hurts." I pout. This ride is not starting out the way I expected it to.

"I am very sorry. Thomas was clearly drunk and very rude. He shouldn't have hit you. If we hadn't been in public, I'd have hit him myself. You weren't hurting anybody and he shouldn't have been drinking so much." Her temperament changes dramatically, turning from teasing to fierce in a snap of the fingers.

"I heard about that. The fella who was punching at the ball… that's the Thomas you talkin' about, missy?"

"That's the one." She says, eyes flashing. "He was rather rude. He seems to have something of a crush on me and doesn't like all the time I've been spending with Jack here."

"You the fella that got hit? What'd you do, steal his girl?"

"Absolutely not!" I holler, frustrated. "I don't steal people. Miss Eliza has a mind of her own. She's not an object to be stolen, nor to be possessed by someone like Thomas!" I bite my tongue. Eliza's grinning madly at the driver, then at me.

"Very good, Mr. McPherson. I'm not an object. And I thank you for sticking up for me."

I blush a very bright red, mad at myself for not keeping my big mouth shut. "You're welcome." I mutter.


	22. Chapter 22

Well, that Jack McPherson really does have a limit. He's not just this total pushover of a guy. He stuck up for me, and got bright red as I complimented him on sticking up for me again. I'm not an object. I have a mind of my own and if anyone doubts it, he'll yell.

I talk with the driver for most of our drive, and it seems to be bugging Jack. Oh well, I like talking with people and it was almost a 2 hour drive out to the ranch. A guy there is waiting grumpily in the driveway when we pull up. Jack gets the door for me like the gentleman he wants me to think he is.

"Finally! You all decided to show up." The man in the driveway says. He's wearing a typical cowboy hat and scowling at me, so I wash all expression from my face.

"I do apologize for our lateness, sir. I believe it was my fault. I take a great deal more time to get ready than the men do. I apologize." I hold my hand out and he shakes it. "I'm Eliza Rein."

"Mark Black. What's a writer and a paper pusher want with a couple of my horses for an afternoon?" he leads us back to the barn and we wave Mr. Campbell off.

"We want to ride them."

"No kidding!" Mr. Black says sarcastically. "I thought you wanted to put them in little tutus and do their hair in ribbons."

"We could do that if you like. But we would like to ride them, Mr. Black."

"Yeah, yeah. I got that from your publisher. Got the paycheck too. Said you'd take good care of them." Mr. Black gestures around us. "I got almost 200 acres. Don't go spooking my cows down in the valley, we'll call it good."

"Yes sir." I smile at him. "I'll be sure to take care of them."

"You. Guy." Mr. Black talks to Jack. "You gonna look after my horses?"

"Yes sir." Jack says quietly, his hands deep in his pockets. "I can look after them for an afternoon."

"Good. Well, here they are. You'll saddle and bridle them yourselves, but I got them all caught for you." Mr. Black gestures to a pretty pair of horses, clearly both palominos, with their soft golden coats.

"They're beautiful." I say, a little breathless. "Any ticks we should know?"

"Yeah. The gelding isn't real fond of birds and the mare will take off on you if you let her."

"Sounds like my kind of horse." I smile. He shows us the saddles and the bridles and I saddle up the mare, muttering softly the whole time so she can get used to my voice. Jack saddles up the gelding and we hop up once we're ready.

"Thanks for this, Mr. Black." Jack says politely.

"Yeah, whatever. Just be back before it gets dark, ya hear?"

"Yes sir!" I smile, waving at him. "Bye!" we ride out of the corral and out into the fields.

I've always loved horses. Ever since I was a little kid, I've loved the way they smell and sound. They're always so very beautiful and so full of life. I look around at everything, smiling like crazy. It feels so good to be out on the back of a horse again, listening to them and breathing everything in. It never ceases to amaze me just how cool horses are. They've got enough strength, speed, and power to kick the daylight out of just about anything, but they don't. They let themselves get caught by us tiny, helpless, little humans, and let us boss them around. They let us put cold pieces of metal in their mouth, and make them carry us on their backs. We'd never stand for it, but we don't question making them do it. Never ceases to amaze me.

"So why are you so giddy?" Jack asks me, seeming a little grumpy himself.

"I love horses. I love being around them. Why are you so mad?"

"I'm not mad." He says, clearly mad. "I'm just confused."

"Confused?"

"You were so out of it yesterday, and almost got hurt, but today you're not even being halfway sarcastic and snide. I'm confused. What's up with you?"

"Oh. Sorry. I was feeling homesick yesterday. Not so much today. Look around. It's beautiful out here. We're on the backs of some beautiful animals, admiring God's creation. What's not to be happy about?"

Jack shuts up, looking so confused at me. We ride on for a really long time, coming up at the edge of a small river. I look back and forth and decide it's not worth it and turn around.

"Hey. Can we stop here for a bit?" Jack asks.

"Why? You sore?" I ask, half smiling.

"Yeah. And the horses seem thirsty." The gelding already has his face in the water. I laugh.

"Very well." I hop down and let the mare drink. Jack jumps down and starts rubbing his legs, obviously very sore. "Is this your first time riding, Jack?" I try to make polite conversation.

"No. I go riding sometimes. Not as often as I would like, but I make a point of going about twice a year for a friend of mine."

"Oh really? A girlfriend?" I ask, trying to see if I'm not just some ploy to get back at a girlfriend, or make one jealous.

"No. I'm single. It's a buddy of mine who's got cancer. He can't climb into the saddle, so sometimes I will go riding with him. He's 10."

"Oh. I'm sorry." I say. He seems to be in a really bad mood today. I wonder why.

"It's no big deal. I wish we could cure it, but for now, I just help him out whenever I can."

"That's awfully nice of you. He must get lonely."

"When he's not in the hospital at least." Jack falls silent, zoning out. I sit and wait, admiring the snow that is around, even though there's not much of it. For being totally unable to leave the state, the weather sure is nice. We must be in the eye of the storm. How frustrating.

"Miss Rein?" Jack asks, breaking into my thoughts.

"Yes?" I look directly at him.

"What…" he pauses, his face rounded with the light from the afternoon sun. It's a nice face, and one I've almost gotten used to. He's not drop dead gorgeous, obviously, but he has a nice face. The light around here, afternoon, wintery sunshine, reflected off the snow… compliments it quite nicely. Not that he'd ever know that. He was just my ticket to come horseback riding.

"What…?" I prompt, wanting him to go on, despite the nervous look on his face.

"What would you do if you could just go home?"

Well. This is a new development. Why does he suddenly care about me going home?

"Probably unpack and sleep in my own bed. Say hi to my family. Oh shoot!" I suddenly remember! I have not called my parents in days! Oh CRAP! I whip out my cell. No service. Duh.

"Oh shoot?" he says, looking mildly amused. I didn't cuss. So what?

"Oh shoot. Yes. Dang. I've haven't called my parents since I got here. They're probably worried sick. I'm sure they've heard about the storm by now… what are you looking at me like that for?"

"Nothing. You just…. You seem too sharp edged to use words like… 'shoot' and 'dang' as your curses."

"I beg your pardon? Since when are you a dictionary? Or a therapist? Why you judging?"

"I'm not! It's just… it's funny. But I guess it makes sense. You never curse on your blog. For any reason. No matter how angry or violent the topic."

"I have a more refined vocabulary. If I am forced to resort to curse words, someone's about to die a very painful and bloody death." I say calmly, making my point as sharply as I can.

"I am willing to believe that, thanks."

"You're welcome!" I smile. "Shall we continue or are you trying to drown the poor horse?"

"Oh! Sorry. Yeah. Sure."


	23. Chapter 23

I do not get her. At all. Why am I so nervous all of a sudden? It's not like she's going to hurt me. Right? She's more impressive than I could have ever dreamed, a great horsewoman, and a great conversationalist. I can't say that she's very pleased to be stuck with me, but it's better than the alternative. She doesn't seem to like to be alone very much. She keeps talking softly to that horse. I can't hear what she's saying, but there's no way she's insulting the horse with that soft tone. Wow. Her voice is really pretty, you know? Like… like it's something special to her. That the horse matters and she cares what it thinks, and likes talking to it. Like it can talk back. I almost wish these two could. Maybe they could give me some advice on what to do with all these feelings I've got for Miss Eliza Rein. I mean, I fell for her snarky, sarcastic, and almost insensitive tone, but there's something else there now. There's… there's a softer side. There's lots of sides. She's not a coin. She's a pyramid.

"What's with the look, Mr. McPherson? You look like you just had a revelation." She asks, looking over at me.

"Huh? Oh, nothing. I was just thinking."

"Careful. Don't hurt yourself. I don't want to have to walk the horses back."

"I'll be careful." I look at her again. She bugs me. There's a piece of her that's missing. I've seen some of her sides: the super snarky, sarcastic side; the 'lost in thought' and has-no-idea-what's-going-on-around-her side; the defensive side I got to see at the ball; and maybe what I'm seeing now is her soft side. Man. Girls are confusing! But if my theory is correct and she is a pyramid, then there's one more. Oh well. I'll figure that later.

We get back with the horses on time, she chats with Mr. Black some more, telling him how much she appreciated that he let us ride his horses, that we looked after them, and whatever. None of it was snark either. She seemed genuinely grateful. She even got the grumpy old man to half smile, which is saying something.

We get back in a taxi and ride back very quietly, since it's getting dark.

"Hey. Can I take you to dinner?" I ask, hoping I'm not pushing my luck.

"Sure. I don't mind." She looks out the window, lost in thought again and probably didn't even hear me.

"Okay… is there a place you'd like to go?"

"I don't know. I'm not familiar with New York. Is there a place that accepts people dressed like us and smells like horses that _doesn't_ serve beer?" she half smiles at the window. Ah, so she _can_ hear me.

"I don't know. I was thinking maybe some fast food or something. Unless you wanted to change."

"I didn't bring anything fancy to change into. I have no reason to change anything else but my clothes. So you tell me, what would I change into?"

"I don't…" I look at her reflection in the window, trying to make out her expression. I don't know what she means. Is she talking about clothes, or is she talking about her personality? GIRLS ARE SO CONFUSING!

"You don't know what I'm asking. I'm sorry. Let me make this simpler. I wasn't planning on being here this long. I was planning on being home last night at the very latest. I have little to no intention of staying here longer than I have to. I didn't pack anything that would be suitable for formal dining at a restaurant, and the dress I wore to the ball would be a little too old fashioned, I'm sure. Therefore, I don't want to change my attire. My apologies. Allow me to amend that statement. I _won't_ change my attire. Is that clearer for you?"

"Yes, I think it is. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."

"You weren't being rude. I wasn't making myself very clear. I like dinner. I like food. But I understand social norms and I know they don't accept my kind. Alright?" her voice drips with a special kind of ice that is a little terrifying.

"Your kind? What do you mean, your kind?"

"Foreigners. Strangers. You New Yorkers are a totally different breed. You do what you want, when you want, because you want to, you walk so fast, you move so fast, your life and even the days move so fast. You keep running like hamsters on a wheel, unable to think or feel about other people because everything is so dang _fast_." She shakes her head at the window, her expression still hidden to me in the darkness setting in. "My kind are so very far away. So slow. Too different, too bullish and clumsy to your quick and refined ways. I've been here long enough to know that people around here are suspicious of nice people like me. Okay. I give. I'll be on my way as soon as I can, New York, and you won't have to see me again, I promise."

"You really think that's what we are?" I ask, a little offended and sad for her.

"I know that's what you are. I'm a stranger, an outsider. We see things as a big picture because we're not part of the painting."

"You think we're fast and don't care about outsiders? That we aren't nice? That we're refined?"

"That's exactly what I think. You don't even seem to like each other or be nice to each other, let alone a wild Colorado blogger such as myself. Right?" her head turns sharply in my direction, her eyes blazing almost angrily.

"What do you mean?" I look at her, awfully startled. Now that I can see her expression, I wish she would look back at the window. Her eyes are filled with anger, the rest of her face red with some other feeling.

"You've paid me an awful lot of attention, Jack. An awful lot. Today was just my ticket to go pretend like I was home again. Cassandra was doing it to hook us together because that's the kind of thing that she has been known to do. Thanks for going along, but the rest of this is just foolishness. Dinner? What's next? Wine and then we slip off to your apartment?" her snarky, cold tone is rising up, but her face clearly says disappointment.

"What? You think I—what?"

"What are your intentions with me, Jack? Huh? You've been interested and my fan for far too long. There are plenty of fans of mine. I get swamped with letters, to the point where I've got about 10 e-mail addresses just to keep my personal space. But you, you went beyond all of that. Dinner. Drinks. A ball. What is this, some fairy tale to you?!"

"What are you getting all mad for?! What did I do?!" I back off towards the door, confused and a little terrified of her tone.

"I don't know, Jack, what did you do?! Why are you stalking me?! What on earth did I do to deserve to be followed around in a strange land by one of the natives?! What kind of sick lesson is this?!"

"Lesson? Natives? Stalking? Eliza, I have no idea what you're talking about, or why you're mad. Please. Calm down."

"Calm down?! Calm down?! Are you out of your mind?!" The cab driver clears his throat, and her whole demeanor changes at the drop of a hat.

"Would the two of you like to get out, or keep the meter running?" the driver asks us. We're at the church.

"No. Thank you. I apologize for our behavior. I'm sorry I yelled. It was rude and inappropriate for me. I'm the only one getting out, thank you." She gets out promptly, shutting the door a little harder than she really needed to.

I give the address for my apartment, taking her behavior towards me to mean "NO" to dinner. I still didn't get her phone number. I guess I found her fifth side… the dangerous one.


	24. Chapter 24

Oh, dang it! I've gone and done it again! Not with some publishers or even in front of all America, no, I've gone and done it with a guy I let get too close, too fast. And now I'm crying my eyes out in the room I'm allowed to have for now at the church. Why can't I just go home?! That's where I want to be! My room, my bed, the warmth and comfort of my blankets! Why can't I go home! HOME DANG IT! And now I've shot my mouth off once more to the only guy that's even been nice to me since I've gotten here. He's a stalker for sure, but that didn't give me a reason to be rude. And I was rude. All he did was offer to take me out to dinner. He's had many opportunities up to now to kidnap me, and I carelessly ignored all the signs. I ignored my memory, my feelings, my training and all other things that told me he was dangerous. Shame on me. Dang it all.

"Dang it, Eliza! Did you have to lose your cool over a _meal_ of all things?!" I talk to myself out loud after I've calmed down some.

"Of course I didn't, but that doesn't change the fact that I did."

"You shouldn't have done that. It wasn't the smartest thing to do. I mean, he is a native to New York, isn't he? Did you have to bite his head off? Attack his state like that?"

"Of course I didn't. But I attacked him anyway."

"You always assume you know best, don't you, Eliza? You always think Eliza's the best person ever and no one will ever hurt Eliza. You let him get close, you moron. You remember reading that book and that's the worst thing to do. You let him get far too close for who he is and now you're paying the price. Shame on you, Eliza dear."

"Yes, yes, shame on me and all that crap. But this isn't helping anything. I want to feel better. I want to stop being so angry and bitter about this. I need to fix it somehow."

"And how are you going to do that? What? You have his phone number stashed somewhere in your luggage? No. Because you're the great Eliza who hands out her number and doesn't ever ask for anyone else's."

"I know Cassandra has it, so I can just ask her for it."

"And then what? Just ask him to forgive you and move on? You know it's not that simple."

"Of course I know that, but still…"

"You like him, don't you? You think he likes you. That's why you were asking. Is he just a dangerous stalker, or is he a really great guy that thinks you're the one?"

"Well he won't like me after tonight. Not after what I said. He started out grumpy and then I just stabbed him in the foot without a goodbye. Yay me."

"You are throwing quite the pity party. What would your mother say?"

"Oh my gosh! Mom!" I grab my cell, since I know we get service here and dial my parents.

They pick up and we spend the next four hours talking about everything. I know how irresponsible it was for me to just disappear off the map and not call them, but they did say I was a grownup and could make my own decisions as far as that goes.

I told them all about Jack McPherson and all the trouble all this nonsense has given me. Dad threatened to kill him, hallelujah and that I shouldn't be going anywhere alone with him ever, ever, ever again. Duh. I knew that, and I was just too stupid to do it. It's New York! There's people everywhere, all the time! I should just have Jeff's wife Caroline go everywhere with me, then. Even though she and I don't exactly get along. Woo hoo. But it's better than being dead or kidnapped, I guess. Anyway. I'll survive. I may survive pretty humiliating, but I will survive.

They're rather surprised I could be so careless. It's not like me to make so many mistakes in such a short period of time. Especially not over a stranger and one of the male gender at that. I'm so sorry. I don't have anything against men, most of the time anyway, but I do have a big problem with my own stature. Most guys could take me down in seconds. Even if they don't realize it. I'm a lot more fragile than I look. Which is bad. I don't break easy, but I am very fragile emotionally. But this guy… he hasn't hurt me at all. Which is nice. And creepy. And suggesting of potential danger.

Okay. So maybe I was stupid to be this trusting this soon. I know better. But that's okay. I am going to do better. And who knows, maybe he'll avoid me from now on. Right? Maybe I'll get lucky and the weather will clear up and I will be able to leave and go home. He'll go on with the rest of his life and leave me to mine.

Who am I kidding? He's still going to stalk me. I have to face this. I don't like it very much, but I have to face him again. I hope this is a good lesson to all you stalkers. Not everybody you stalk is how you expect them to be and not all of them appreciate it. Stop being creepy! For pity sake!

Anyway, after Mom and Dad are all filled in, I promise to call them in the morning with my decision and keep them updated on everything as best as I possibly can. Woof, what a day. And to top it all off, there's Cassandra now, buzzing my phone.

"Hello?" I say, picking it up.

"Hello? Is that how you greet the best agent in the world?" she sounds almost gleeful, like she expects me to announce my engagement to Jack McPherson.

"Yes, it is. Hello. Thank you for letting me go horseback riding today."

"You don't sound pleased. What happened?" she asks, more curious than anything now.

I fill her in a few minutes. "Okay? So, if you wouldn't mind giving me his number, so I can fix this."

"Well, missy. You certainly know how to dig yourself a very deep hole. Why do you keep doing this? This isn't like you! Where's the cool, calm, and calculating girl I know and love?" she asks, trying to be nice.

"I left her in Colorado, asleep in my room, warm, comfortable, and happy. I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"I know, sweetie. It's okay. You just get some sleep. I'm sorry I can't be of more help." She tells me his number and lets me crash. I have so much fun and then people get hurt. What the heck is _wrong_ with me?!


	25. Chapter 25

I go home to my apartment, totally exhausted and sore and grumpy and not sure what I did wrong, or why Miss Rein was so angry at me. What did I do?! I was being friendly. Cassandra invited me to go riding and she seemed perfectly happy until the taxi ride back. Why? What did I do in the taxi that ticked her off?

Asked her to dinner.

She assumed I was hitting on her. Oh no. What have I done?

I have to get her number from Cassandra. But it's nearly 1 in the morning. I will just call her in the morning.

She didn't have to be so mean to my town though. I mean, what was she saying? She hated New York? Why? Because we're fast and loud and we don't sleep? So what? Come to think of it, I didn't say anything about where she's from. Where is she from anyway? What part of Colorado? Huh.

I grab my laptop and hop on the internet, researching her genuinely for the first time in my life. I dig up where she's from and do lots of research for several hours, just learning about where she's from. Colorado's very beautiful. I don't think it's bullish or clumsy though. No more than any New Yorker could be. From the random photos that people have posted online, it looks like a very beautiful place. There's obviously mountains and lots and lots of plants.

I was very interested in her town. Turns out, she comes from a tourist town. They're used to outsiders and strangers from all over the US, and even some from other countries. She would know about strangers and how to treat them, at least, to make them feel welcome.

Great. Now I feel guilty. I have no idea what her place is like, or how to make New York feel like home. With all the wide open spaces around her town, going riding today (more like yesterday, but you get what I'm saying) must have reminded her of home. Going riding. Instead of being in a town full of buildings to the point where there aren't many places like that. The silence was deafening when we were riding. It was driving me nuts!

But not her.

She was happy. She must have thought it was like home and wasn't feeling homesick. Because she was on the back of a horse in the total silence.

I'm such a jerk. Any normal person would be drowning in the culture shock! And she of all people, if she follows the reputation of her town, would know exactly how to fix that. How to make someone feel at home, even if they were miles and miles away.

Not me. I just flirted, offered her a drink and my attention. Did what I was planning on doing anyway, whether she came or not. Sure, it wouldn't have been the same without her, but I was pulling her along on what I wanted to do. I never once considered… maybe she didn't want to. I mean, she could have turned me down, right? But that's not like her. She hasn't turned me down once. Well, except for dinner.

She didn't even turn down the debate. She didn't turn down her editor and agent at all. Ever! Wow. I never thought about it before. She has such a hard time saying no.

And I only made it worse.

She must think I'm a creep. Not only am I stalker, but I'm a New Yorker, and she's having culture shock, and she's homesick, and I never really asked what she wants, and she can't say not me, and—

And I am such a jerk.

I have to make it up to her. I have to tell her I'm sorry! But wait a minute, what if that isn't what she wants? I've trampled on her far enough already, I don't want her to feel obligated to talk to me, just so I can apologize. Maybe I should just leave her alone.

Girls are so confusing.

I have no idea when I fell asleep, but I must have fallen asleep to be woken by my cell phone at about 7:00 AM. I grab it and blearily look at it. I don't know the number, but pick it up anyway.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Is this Jack McPherson?" a foreign voice sounds over the phone. Well, it's not Cassandra, at least.

"Yeah. Who's this?"

"Eliza Rein. I'm sorry, is this a bad time?" I jump straight up, hitting my head on the headboard.

"OW! No, no, not at all. Eliza. To what do I owe the pleasure? I mean—I'm sorry—I mean! Oh, I don't know what I mean." I trip all over myself, trying to explain myself to the girl.

"Look. I just want to apologize for my behavior and what I said yesterday. That's all."

"Yeah! Sure, of course, I get it. Hey, I haven't been very nice to you either. I know it's gotta be hard, you know, new town, strange people, and a creepy guy following you around everywhere has got to suck."

"I don't know about that, but it wasn't what I expected, to be sure." She sounds very awake and making a good effort to be nice to me. Points to her for that.

"Well, what were you expecting?" I ask. The line goes totally silent for about a minute. I begin to think she'd hung up on me.

"I was expecting to be home by now." She says quietly, after so long.

"Oh." Well. That definitely caught me off guard.

"Yeah." She sounds a little disappointed. "Anyway. That's all I wanted to say. I'm sure you're busy, so I'll let you go, okay?"

"Yeah. Sure. Okay. Apology accepted. Eliza?" Gosh I'd better not screw this up.

"Yes?"

"Do you want to do something later? Tonight? It doesn't have to be dinner or whatever, just go see a movie or go sit in a hotel lobby or something?"

"Sure. Just so long as it's in public. Okay?"

"Okay. It's a date—I mean, yeah. I'll pick you up at 5:30, okay?"

"Yeah. That's fine."

"Great. See you then!"

"Yeah. Bye." She hangs up.

Woo! Good for me! I got the girl to go on a date with me. I start dancing around my apartment then replay the conversation all the rest of the day, praying I didn't screw it up. Was that a "Yeah. That's fine" as in "Yes I'm looking forward to it" or was it a "Yeah. That's fine" like women say when it's not really fine?


	26. Chapter 26

I hung up first just to get off the phone. He sounds quite different over the phone. Probably even more different when he's tired and I clearly just woke him up. I knew I should have waited until 8:00! But I couldn't wait. It was eating me alive and I freaking hate that, so I gave up and moved on with the rest of my life. And now we have a date tonight. Crap. I don't even like New York all that much! I don't even like Jack that much!

Then again… he does have that voice and I am trapped here a little while longer… hmmm…..

I don't really spend too much time thinking about it. I just make sure that I have everything ready for that evening. I work on my blog, pay some bills that I've been neglecting, and keep up my social network that I've been neglecting for a few days. Somewhere in there I had some lunch down the street and rather enjoyed it. There were some people that came in the church that thought it'd be loads of fun to come talk to me and I was actually nice to them. I got to talk with them and answer some of their questions about some of my stories. They seemed nice.

I was halfway through my inbox when 5:30 rolled around. I jumped up and scrambled around, remembering what it was that I was supposed to be doing. I was pulling my boots on when there's a knock at the door. Jack pokes his head in.

"Miss Eliza?" he asks, seeing me all sloppily dressed, with one boot on and untied, hair flying out of its messy bun as I race around the room.

"Just a minute!" I fight with my other boot and end up falling on the floor.

"Can I help you?" he walks in, hand out.

"Absolutely not!" I untangle myself quite successfully by myself and get up. "I simply need to tie my shoes and grab my coat. I do apologize. I was distracted."

"I figured." He smiles. It's a nice smile. Not one I've seen before. Not the creepy "I'm going to gobble you up" smile you'd expect from a stalker, but a nice, gentle, and almost harmless smile.

Nevertheless, I grab my can of mace and stick it in my pocket before heading out on the street again. I managed to fix my hair before I left, so it's not so messy and dangerously loose. Jack doesn't attempt to hold my hand as we walk. He just seems to be… content in my presence.

"Is there somewhere you wanted to go? I'm game for anything. Steak, lobster, cheese sticks, or even burgers. You name it. My treat." He says, almost carefully.

I think about it, curious as to why he's offering to take me to dinner, when I thought I made it very clear last night that I didn't want to have dinner with him.

"I mean, we don't have to go eat something. We could just walk. Or go watch a movie. Or nothing. I'm gonna shut up now." He says it so pitifully, I just had to laugh. He sounds like a little kid trying to impress a girl. I guess we're all little kids.

"I like Chick-Fil-A. You got a branch of them out here?" I say, and he perks right up.

"Of course! I love that place. I'll show you." He walks off, with more purpose than before. I keep up, since I have a swift stride of my own.

We walk in and that delightful smell of grease and their fabulous waffle fries entices me. No matter how many times I walk into Chick-Fil-A, that smell always gets me hungry. He gestures for me to order first. I go as classic as always, chicken sandwich with everything, those perfect waffle fries and a chocolate milkshake to boot. Mmmm….

I hear Jack laughing beside me quietly.

"What's so funny?"

"You look just like a kid. You're practically bouncing up and down." He smiles widely, laughing at me.

"And? You're buying. I'm eating. So… stick it." I toss my head and smile. He just laughs more.

"Very funny, Miss Rein." He chooses then to order his food, which is more on the grilled side and anti-vegetables. Oh well.

We sit down and eat our food. I do as best as I can to be ladylike, but come on, it's _good_. So yes, I was less than polite and was very happy eating that highly unhealthy food. _Very_ happy. He keeps smiling and laughing at me on and off, but I do not care. I have food. And it is yummy.

"Miss Rein?"

"Yes?" I poke my head up.

"Is this okay?" he asks, a little timid.

"Yes. I like food." I nod sharply.

"But hanging out with me…. is that okay? Is this okay?"

"I guess. Better than hanging out with some other people I know."

"Like Thomas?"

"Yes. Like your friend Thomas." I decide that's enough of that, since I don't wish to discuss such a filthy creature. "Tell me what caught your attention in my work. Why do you like it so much?"

"Because it's deep. It's meaningful and heavy. There are lots of religious undertones in it, but you never outright condemn anyone. Not even your characters. Each one has a good side and a bad side. They all have this brilliant ideal and motive, even if that motive leads them to do wrong. It's incredibly good writing. It holds my attention better than anything else I've ever seen."

"So… is your attraction simply to my work, or to me?"

He pauses, contemplating my question. I watch the gears turning in his head, wondering if this is a trap. I didn't mean one, but I suppose it could be perceived that way. I really want to know. He's been stalking my work for a long time, but has only known me a couple days. Yet, his attention has been very focused on me nonetheless during that time period.

"I guess… both. I like your work, and have liked your work for a long time. With that said…" he says carefully, "I think an author's work reflects who that author is. They may be very imaginative and their writing may have nothing to do with their past experiences, but it still shows who _they_ are." He focuses, his eyebrows coming together as he tries to say this as carefully as he can. What's he gonna do, scare me away? "Does that make sense?"

"Yes. It makes a lot of sense." I nod, encouraging him to go on, hoping my expression is blank.

"Umm… I guess I wouldn't know about you without having read your work first, so maybe I have simply convinced myself that I like you, when really it's your work that I like."

"I can understand that. Some people are like that." I shrug. "As long as you recognize that they are two totally separate things."

He nods rapidly like a bobble head. "I know they're totally different, but then I actually met you, and it is different. Your writing is not exactly how you are, but it is a lot of how you want to be seen. You want people to see you as a really deep and thoughtful person. You want them to think that you don't ever have fun, that you're a good writer, and that you don't care what people think." He bites his lip, afraid he went too far.

"You may be right." A look of shock crosses his face.

"Really?"

"Yes." I shrug again. "So what if I want to be seen that way?"

He shuts up, staring at me with a great deal of confusion on his face.

"So what if I want the whole world to think I'm stuck-up, rude, sharp-tongued, capable of deep thought, and not fun? The whole world isn't going to meet me in person. Most of the world will only see my work. Let them like it for what it is. It is simply work. It is not me. For the world to take my work and say that it is me is an entirely different matter. They cannot take my work and say that it is me. I am a person. The writing is nothing more than characters on a page. Not even a page, just characters on a _screen_! I am a hundred thousand times more valuable than just some letters. So yes, let them attack some letters, some characters, let them enjoy themselves with it. Let them think whatever they want about it. But I know who I am. And I am not my work."

Oh, well done, Eliza. Go and give a lecture in the middle of a restaurant. Don't you ever shut up?! He didn't want to hear about your ideals! Shut up, Eliza! Shut up!

He applauds slowly, the look of surprise still on his face.

"Wow. That's… good. That's really good." I turn bright red and duck my head. "No, no. Don't be ashamed. That was good. Wow." I don't look at him and we just sit in awkward silence for a while.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lecture."

"No, no! That's good. It was good." He smiles. "Eliza, I'd like to get to know you as a person, not just your work. Is it okay if I do that?"

"Why?" I ask, same as I do with everyone who asks to get to know me better.

"Because I am familiar with your work and I like it. I've gotten to know you a little bit, and I don't think you're as bad as you want everyone to believe you are."


	27. Chapter 27

Her eyebrows go up at my statement. "Oh really? I'm not so bad?"

"No, I don't think you are." I say firmly. "I think you're a very nice girl. If only for how you treated Timothy."

"Timothy. He's shy. But intelligent. He's a person." She shrugs yet again. "I did what was right."

"See there?" I point directly at her. "That's what I mean. You did what was right. Not because you had to, not because he was of high stature. Not because there was anything he could give you that you couldn't already have. You didn't have any sense of entitlement or demands from him. You treated him like a person because it was right. That's what makes you nice." I sit back, very proud of myself, folding my arms.

"Interesting." She says calmly.

Well I was not expecting that. What's that supposed to mean? I give her compliments, proving that she's nice and she says, "Interesting."? What the heck? Women are so confusing!

"What do you mean, interesting?"

"You say you want to get to know me better because you like what you see so far, correct?" She nods, awaiting some sort of response from me.

"Yes…?" Oh this is bad. I've gone and made her mad, and I'm in a trap now, and she's going to be mad at me. I should have stayed home. I should have shut up.

"But what if I don't want to get to know you because I don't like what I've seen so far?" she folds her arms.

I totally wilt. I didn't think of it that way. I didn't think that maybe she wouldn't want to. I mean, I'm a nice guy and all, but maybe I'm just not what she's looking for. Just because the character in her writing was almost just like me doesn't mean that that character is really her ideal.

"I don't…. I don't know. You don't have to get to know me. I can just…" I stumble over myself, talking quietly. "I'm sorry, Miss Rein."

"For what?" she doesn't seem bothered by this, as if it's happened to her a thousand times.

"For not considering what you want. I am sorry. I have been selfish this whole time and asking to get to know you was really selfish. I'm sorry."

"Forgiven." She says swiftly, without hesitation. "However, my question still stands."

"Then I will go away. If I am not what you're looking for, I will stop pursuing it."

"Thank you." Her voice is calm. "As it is, I would like to get to know you better, but you'd better take it up with my dad. And we will never be alone together. I have lots of rules and requirements, failsafes if you will, in place. If only to protect myself. Understand?"

"Rules and requirements? For what?"

"Dating me. Although, my family doesn't do dating. We do something more comparable with courtship. Which comes with lots more rules so that fewer mistakes occur and people are lots less likely to be hurt."

"Oh. Okay…" I nod. "I have no intentions of hurting you, Miss Rein."

"I didn't say you did. I want to make sure that you don't. I also don't want you to have any false expectations. I want to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into, and that I don't get hurt if you happen not to like what you get into."

"I see. Self-preservation then. Okay. I get it. I can't blame you. You're very pretty." I shut my mouth, a little surprised at myself for saying that.

"I know. I am 24 years old, you know. You're not the first guy to have asked me out." She sighs, like this is just another chore for her to complete.

"Yeah?" I ask, almost wanting to find out how many others she's "courted" before.

"Yes. For whatever reason, I attract idiots like flies to horse dung." She shakes her head, a look of amazement on her face. "I just don't get it. I'm not blonde, so how dumb do they think I am?"

"You're not dumb at all. I'm sorry they think so." I pause. "I'm not an idiot, am I?"

"You're a guy. You're clearly not stupid, since you can comprehend my more complicated statements fairly well… but I don't know yet. Most of the time I can. Usually only takes about ten minutes of conversation." She sighs.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Sorry? It's not your fault, is it?" she asks, giving me a comical suspicious look. I can't help but laugh. Sometimes she's just so funny.

"Of course not! I can't control everyone." She smiles calmly in response.

"Nor can I, unfortunately. Although, many times I would like to. You may find that I can be highly manipulative. I often know how to get people to do what I want. But you'd best be careful. I don't always know what I want." She nods sagely, lips pressed tightly together.

"Okay. Why are you telling me all of this all of a sudden?"

"You wish to get to know me. I'm letting you get to know me. I am providing you with information about me. Shall I stop?"

"Oh, no. I was just wondering…"

"Okay. I'm sorry. Feel free to stop me whenever. I can ramble when I want to. My brothers say I never shut up." She thinks a moment. "Which, I guess I don't. I just have a long, running conversation with myself in my head." She shrugs it off.

"Okay. I happen to like the way your voice sounds. I don't mind listening to it. I don't mind the subject matter either, I was just curious." She smiles at me.

"Curiosity. I love it. Good. Be curious." She keeps smiling as we talk, learning more about each other. Turns out, her hunger for information is completely ravenous, all the time. She can inhale massive amounts of it, organize it all in her head, spit it out on a keyboard and make it look really good. No different with people. She can inhale loads about a person's life, organize it, and make it all look good, no matter how boring that person may think it is. She really is amazing. Truly amazing.


	28. Chapter 28

It was a pretty great dinner date. Yeah. Date. Bleck. Gosh I hate that word. Dates are a nasty fruit that I simply cannot stand. But spending time with him was nice. Having good conversation, thick and bright. It was awesome. Enjoyable, I mean. I meant fun. Am I even allowed to have fun? Yeah. I guess I am. I'm a grownup in the USA. I'm allowed to have fun, just so long as I don't break any of the government rules, right? Of course right.

I don't even know what I'm saying. Just ignore that last paragraph.

Anyway. Jack and I have a lot more in common than I thought. He's a stalker, for sure, but he's not totally lethal. He has made no advances beyond a desire to get to know me better. For some reason, he thinks I'm a good person. Which is odd, because it states very clearly in the Bible that there is no such thing. Yet he thinks I am one. Well, that logic will just have to work itself out.

He took me back to the church after our date. He was very charming too, as he said goodnight. It seems almost like I've known him for longer than I really have. It seems that we've been friends forever and I'd just forgotten. But we haven't known each other for forever. I just met him last week. Or was it two weeks ago? The days are blurring together. I am forgetting what day it is, how long I've been here… and I am running out of clothes! I need to do laundry. Oh. How long has it been since I've been trapped here? How long have I been lost in New York? I don't remember! AH! I DON'T REMEMBER! My memory, so helpful and useful has failed me! I'm forgetting time and enjoying myself! I must be out of my mind.

Regardless, Jack has asked me out to breakfast. I accepted. Now to tell my parents. Yay me.

I pick up the phone and dial my mother as soon as I can. Sure, they already know a little bit about what's been going on and Mom is really worried about my safety in the snowstorm, and Dad is already threatening Jack. He's fascinating. It's been a very long time since someone has held my attention so firmly in one hand. He's charming, funny, and certainly won't leave me alone. Which is good, because I absolutely hate being alone.

He's become more of an open book to me and I'm really, very impressed with him. I pull up the document I keep the "Boyfriend Requirements" in and start reading through, making comparisons between my demands and Jack. I once created a character based on these requirements once, just so that I could actually see what this person would look like. Lo and behold, Jack's awfully close. Very close. He has a few things to work on, but overall, he's met the requirements. He's special enough that I'm willing to be interested in him. He seems to be able to handle me when I need to be, but otherwise is just moving along with himself.

I turn of the light and go to sleep, images of Jack spinning in my head.

He turns up for breakfast the next morning, and a light snow has fallen. New York seems odd to me, because their snow is very different than the kind I'm used to. Their snow is almost… ashy. Back home, our snow is crisp, cold and more blizzardy. Not here. Just fluff and slush. Yuck.

"Good morning, Miss Rein." Jack smiles.

"Morning, Jack." I walk down the steps briskly. "Where are we going for breakfast?"

"The little café I brought you to before. Do you remember? On your first day here?"

"Yeah? That seems forever ago." I exclaim, just happily going along with him.

"It does, doesn't it. So, I was wondering…" Jack seems nervous but in a fairly good mood, "if I could have your dad's phone number."

"Oh, sure. Let's get some food and that fantastic hot chocolate first." I say. We get to the little café and who should be waiting for us in their regular booth but Thomas, his arm around a bombshell blonde, who must be cold, because that neckline plunged to her navel.

"Oh no." Jack mutters.

"We'll just sit somewhere else. Come on." I push him across the room, totally ignoring Thomas with every fiber of my being.

"Hello, Miss Rein. It's good to see you again." Timothy comes over with another beautiful cup of M&amp;M heaven for me and a tall glass of water for Jack.

"Hello Timothy. How are you?" I ask, making polite conversation.

"I'm just fine, thank you. Marcus is really enjoying your book. He's pretty mad that he can't tell others to go buy it. You really should have it published."

"Yes, well, I attempted it and ruined some of my chances to do that. Thank you though. I'm glad he's pleased."

"You're welcome." Timothy slides off to attend to his duties some more. I just drown myself in the cup of hot chocolate for as long as I can before Thomas and his hired girlfriend appear. Oh good gravity, where did she get that skirt? Off a child mannequin?

"Fancy meeting you two here." Thomas's clip is very annoying to me. I ought to smack that self-righteous grin right off his face.

"I don't fancy it at all, actually." I snap. "I find you rather pompous and presumptuous by showing up here and demanding our attention. We were quite fine before you walked over, thank you."

"Hey! Don't get on your high horse either, Miss Eliza Rein. Haven't you seen your face all over the news yet? Or was it America's Most Wanted? I forget." He sneers at me.

"I haven't, because I am not on either of those places. I'm a blogger, not a newsperson, thank you very much. But perhaps you cannot acknowledge that since you've drunk all your brain cells away. If you hadn't, perhaps you could have remembered that I don't like you very much and have no reason to keep your company. Thus, I do not seek it." I rise in my chair, attempting to be intimidating. Jack rises from his when I do.

"Get out of here, Thomas. Please, just leave us alone." Jack asks politely. He's quite cute when he's defensive.

"I just wanted to introduce you both to Caroline." Thomas feigns innocence.

"Pleasure, I'm sure." Caroline has a high-pitched, nasally voice that immediately scrapes my eardrums. "I'm such a big fan of yours, Miss Rein."

"Oh really? How much of my work have you read? One paragraph? Two?" I snap at her.

Caroline's face falters, like she wasn't expecting me to say anything back of that nature. "Well… well, none. I just heard about the debate."

"Oh the debate. So you're a fan of my ability to shut people down. Do yourself and your date a favor, sweetie and leave me alone. Unless you'd like to become my opponent in a debate right here and now? I would love to shame the both of you to the point where you will never show your faces in public again. Oh, do, just try me. I am in no mood to deal with these childish dating games."

Thomas's face grows red. "Childish dating games?!" He roars at me, drawing everyone's attention. "Is that what you think this is?!"

"I know that's what it is, you fool! You brought her in here to make me jealous, so I would attempt to flirt with you to replace her. I don't know what funny notions you have in your head about me, but I am not the least bit interested in you and seeing her by your side does not change that one iota! Do yourself a favor and go away. You—" Midsentence, Thomas strikes me.


End file.
